Therapy
by Ersatz Einstein
Summary: Following the dissolution of the USSR, Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia aren't doing as well as could be hoped. Fortunately, Austria is known for more than its music. Characters appear based on how much I like them. Please R&R.
1. Meeting

_ The knife was back. He wasn't even sure why he was surprised by it at this point. Russia calmly twirled its point between two fingers as he surveyed the captive nation._

"_OK, where should I start?" he asked with the voice of a child helping mommy carve the turkey._

_Lithaunia wouldn't answer. Instead, he considered his surroundings. The dark concrete cell dripped with water. The door was closed, but a single bare bulb hung from a string illuminated the room well enough. (Given how long it had been off, the light seemed abnormally hot. Come to think of it, it probably was.)_

_Whether he told the truth or lied, Russia would know exactly where to do it, precisely where to hurt him. Of course, not answering could be worse, as Russia's slowly darkening expression would attest. The larger nation repeated his request, clearly upset that Lithaunia didn't want to play._

"_WHERE." The not-quite-question, not-quite-outburst startled him out of his reverie. Terrified of Russia's growing impatience, he blurted out the first thing that popped into his head:_

"_Not the face!"_

_Had he been strong and present-minded enough to move, he would've slapped himself. As it was, he focused on digging his nails into his palms, certain that the pain in his hands would momentarily serve as a welcome distraction._

_Russia let out a low laugh. Lithuania tried desperately to contain his shaking as the larger nation drew closer and cupped his cheek in one hand._

"_Open your eyes… Open them!" _

_The startling violet eyes ('violets' violence' flashed through his mind) were looking directly into his._

"_Now why would I hurt such a pretty face?" he asked with a pleasant smile. With that, he released Lithuania's face with a gentle pat. He rose to his feet. "I'd like for you to clean the dishes tomorrow." He didn't wait for a response._

_ It wasn't until after he'd left that Lithuania noticed the slender slice down his left side._

…

Poland had begun to notice that something was wrong with Lithuania. That meant something. That he had progressed from "Hey, what's up with Lithuania today?" to actual concern meant that it was time to worry.

Of course, even without Poland as a gauge, it wasn't a hard thing to spot. He didn't eat, in public or at home. (He hadn't even been to the grocery store on Poland's behalf in weeks.) He showed up to every World Meeting with bags under his eyes. At the meetings themselves, he sat off in a corner taking notes. In some ways it was as if he'd never stopped being Russia's secretary. Even Russia seemed to forget at times, asking him to write things down before remembering and politely apologizing. The only things that Poland could really add to the conversation were reports on the nightmares.

Searing, heartbreaking, nightmares, every night since he'd left the USSR. The harsh commas and colons of whimpers and muttered pleas steadily marked the night's progression, coming faster and faster together until the sharp gasp of awakening drew the phrase to a close. Period. The paragraphs of the dreams seemed to follow the paragraphs of the reports, running on and on until they no longer seemed significant.

The other Baltics were little better. Estonia celebrated his two Independence Days in subdued cheer, trying to make as little fuss about Russia as possible even as he tried to draw his sparse population into a real party. Latvia had stopped going to world meetings altogether, too shy about his lack of height and power to risk facing the larger nations in a formal setting.

The nations could almost overlook Prussia, who had his brothers to look after him. It was no surprise that his reintegration and economic redevelopment went well, but it was the psychological side of things that surprised the others. Germany and Austria were powerful, loyal, intelligent… but it was hard to think of them as warm. There had to be some secret to it, so they called a special World Meeting _sans _the Post-Soviet states.

True to form, it was America who brought the topic up, and who asked point-blank. (Equally so, it was England who thoughtfully elbowed America in the ribs for being rude.)

"I don't see why it surprises you," replied Germany, calmly ignoring the interruption. "We German nations have always been known for our mental health." (The next elbow was undoubtedly warranted.)

"What my brother means," interrupted Austria, "is that Austria-"

"Germany."

"- was the home not only to a number of great musicians, but also to some of the world's most respected psychiatrists, among them Sigmund Freud and Alfred Adler." There were a few seconds of confused silence. "Chief proponent of the inferiority complex?" Relieved nods assured him that he could continue. "And even those, such as Carl Jung, not originally from Austria –"

"Germany."

" – did their best work in my –"

"- my –"

"Shut up!" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The point is that I know something of psychology."

"OK! That's good then, right?" chirped America, seemingly oblivious to the look on Switzerland's face. "I mean, the Baltics have been acting weird ever since they split off from Russia."

"So I take it that you want me to do something for them?"

"If you think you can," said England with a singularly annoying smirk. (America felt a little bad about the tea on England's shirt, but he had to have known that he was asking to be kicked in the shin.)

"Of course he – we – can!" snapped Germany. "That isn't the question."

"The Baltics are the only buffer between you and Russia," France remarked calmly.

It was strange to think it, but none of them had ever seen Germany _flinch _before. Austria didn't seem too surprised, though, and after the two exchanged a short glance (probably thinking of Prussia, who they'd wisely left at home), he turned back to face the others.

"I prefer afternoon appointments. Can you have them come at around three?"


	2. Decision

"Hi, Lithuania!"

"Oh, um… hi." The two Baltics looked at each other in mutual surprise. By more-or-less unspoken agreement, they hadn't talked since leaving Russia.

"How – how have you been?"

"Oh, fine, fine. You?"

"Great. Umm…" They were walking side by side now, trying and failing to think of something to fill the conversational void. At the first fork in the road, they muttered some empty formalities about staying in touch and how much fun chatting was. Latvia offered his hand and they shook halfheartedly, both not-so-secretly glad that the other was leaving.

The awkward part came when they both turned towards Austria's house.

The demands of civil inattention held up against their curiosity for a minute. They studiously avoided eye contact, each hoping that the other would take the next turn-off, or the next. But once the houses of both Poland and Czechoslovakia had passed by without a change in pace, they dejectedly gave up the hope of coincidence.

"So… you're going to see Austria, hm?" Latvia chirped.

"Yes. And you?"

"The same. I was talking with Poland the other day, and he suggested that I go and visit. I'm not quite sure why, though. He was kind of vague."

"Really? That sounds like the conversation I had with Swe… den." After exchanging a horrified stare, they made the rest of the journey in a silence suddenly made sinister. Neither was surprised to see Estonia at Austria's door, although he did a quick double take before it occurred to him to worry.

They hadn't all been together since they had worked in Russia's house. The mere presence of the others was enough to bring him to each of their minds. Ostensibly, Austria was an ally, a member of NATO, someone to be trusted. Still, Prussia was around somewhere, and for all they knew he was still loyal to _him_… The sound of Latvia's knock caused the others to jump. Nevertheless, their indecision and terror were enough to keep them quavering on the doorstep as approaching footsteps became audible. When the knob turned, Latvia's teeth started to chatter.

"Hello," Austria said. "I've been expecting you. Won't you come in? I've made tea." He turned to get some cups from the kitchen. Their paranoia ebbing enough to allow for embarrassment, the Baltics followed him inside.

_ 'Why on Earth,' _Austria wondered, _'would they send all three of them at once? It's probably America's fault. I don't know why I let him arrange these things.'_

…

Half an hour later, Austria's guests were as relaxed as could be expected. They'd had a cup of tea each (two in Latvia's case), and while Lithuania's insistence on cleaning up after them and Estonia's tendency to pop outside every five minutes (officially to look for a missing pin; really to make sure the door was still unlocked) were a little troublesome, their behavior on the whole was normal. Satisfied, Austria set his cup down and steepled his fingers.

"I suppose you'd all like to know what this is about." He decided it would be best to ignore Latvia's coughing as the boy tried to swallow a mouthful of tea. "As you may have guessed, it is because you are states recently split from the USSR. (Kindly don't drop your cup, Lithuania. It's very old and expensive.)

It's no secret that none of you have been… _well_ recently, so –"

"You're sending us back?!" blurted Latvia. "But you can't! We – we won't let you!"

"_Latvia!" _hissed Estonia. "Be quiet!" His eyes darted from corner to corner, as if he was expecting Russia to appear out of thin air. Raising his voice, he turned back to Austria. "Sir, while I'm sure that there are p-plenty of good reasons to send us back to Russia, I dare say that we could be very useful allies to –" Austria raised a hand to silence him.

"We're not sending you back."

"A-are you sure? Because it sounded like –"

"_Latvia!" _the others hissed in unison. Lithuania continued, "So, Mr. Austria, if you aren't sending us back, why are we here?"

"Like I said, you haven't been well lately. Your friends in the West are beginning to worry. They think you could all benefit from a little conversation with a professional."

"Musician?" (Estonia wondered if it would be terribly wrong to smack him.)

"He's talking about therapy," croaked Lithuania. "Franz Mesmer, Sigmund Freud, Alfred Adler, and Hans Asperger were Austrian, and Carl Jung spent some time in Vienna while he was working on his theories."

"Very good," Austria remarked with surprise. "You wouldn't believe how many people think that Freud was a fluke.

In any case, I don't intend to do anything at the moment. It's clear that none of you are comfortable here, least of all with each other. Nevertheless, you could all use some help in working things out, and your friends were insistent that I do something." At that moment, a loud whistling interrupted the conversation. "Ah, that must be the next pot of tea. I'll get it." He rose, leaving the three of them alone together.

Much as they all hated to admit it, they'd gotten used to making decisions as a group, and while it seemed oddly suspect that they should be left alone at this precise moment, it was an opportunity too good to waste.

"What do you think?" whispered Estonia.

"I think if he wants to call us crazy, he should say so. Also, he shouldn't put so much milk in his tea."

"True. Lithuania?" He didn't even look up from his lap as he answered, and his voice was so low that the others couldn't hear him. "Come again?"

"I think we should consider it."

"Why? You heard what Latvia said. He thinks we're crazy."

"I don't think that that's what he meant, and even if he did, Poland and Sweden and whoever told you to come all helped him. That means that they think we should try it. Maybe they're right."

Latvia eyed him thoughtfully. "It would be hard to argue with them, especially if there are even more nations involved. What do you think, Estonia?"

"… You're right. We don't really have a choice." They sat and finished their rapidly cooling tea until Austria returned with a fresh pot.

"So, shall we give it a shot?"

"Sure. Be happy to," said Estonia.

"That goes for all of you?" The other two nations nodded. "Splendid. In that case, I'd prefer that you came on your own. I have a few free hours in the afternoons, so which days are good for you?"

As they worked out the details, a horrible crash sounded from upstairs. Distant, deep-throated shouting could be heard as Austria politely exchanged phone numbers. The Baltics exchanged glances, but if living with Russia had taught them anything, it was that if information wasn't volunteered, asking for it was a bad idea.


	3. Honesty

As Latvia walked up to the small, well-decorated house, he wondered absentmindedly if it would be rude to back out at this point. The scent of freshly baked cookies that greeted him suggested that his host might have gone to some trouble. After briefly considering the old fashioned doorknocker shaped like a black eagle, he decided to announce his presence in his own inimical fashion.

"Hey, Austria! It's Latvia!"

To Austria's credit, he didn't drop the tea service, although it took some quick acrobatics to keep it aloft. He did his best to compose himself and went to answer the door. He thought of acting surprised at Latvia's presence, but it seemed as though the sarcasm would be lost on the younger nation.

…

"These are very good, Mr. Austria."

"Why, thank you. They're an old family recipe. So… how long were you with Russia?"

"M-Mr. Russia, sir? About 43 years, if you don't count the first time, and that didn't last long."

"And what was working in Russia's household like for you?"

"Good, a-at least I think it was. H-he knew that I was smaller than the others, and couldn't do as much work, s-so I d-didn't have much to do. I-I'd go to the store to fetch things for him, c-clean his uniforms, help out in the k-k-kitchen, d-dust, sometimes do the laundry, help with dinner, clean the mudroom…"

"None of that sounds too bad."

"Oh, it wasn't, Mr. Austria. I wouldn't have minded at all if it weren't for Mr. Russia being so…" He waved a hand, searching for the word.

"Scary?"

"Yes… scary. He could get very… difficult at times. Especially when he was having internal problems. Not that I came off the worse for it, of course. I mean, he knew that I was smaller and weaker than the others; s-so it wasn't aimed at me as much. Once I started trying to leave, there were some p-problems, but not many."

"What kind of problems?"

He affected a nonchalant shrug. "Oh, you know. Firing on protesters. Attacks on a couple of major cities. Mr. Russia could've done far worse had he wanted to."

"Did he ever want to?"

"Yes. No! Um, do you think we could talk about something else?"

"Sure. Does it make you uncomfortable when Estonia and Lithuania tell you to be quiet?"

"What?"

He spread his hands. "It's just that they seem to do it a lot. They did it at least twice in the space of five minutes when we were talking yesterday."

"I know that they're just trying to help." Austria raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You don't get it. If I'd said some of the stuff I said to you yesterday to Mr. Russia, he would've… It's not important what he would've done. The point is that they're just trying to keep me from getting annexed again."

"By Russia?"

"Maybe. Or by Mr. Germany again. I mean, he's not so bad now, but when he brought me to his house before, it was dark and loud and – and bloody there. And Mr. Russia's house wasn't so loud, but it was always cold, and he was around all the corners waiting for us to make mistakes, so he could – be quiet, Latvia!" He fell silent, trying not to look embarrassed. They drank their tea quietly for another five minutes.

"Anyway," he continued. "Nobody likes to be a servant looking after a bigger country, even if he knows that you're small and can't do everything."

"Is your size important to you?"

"… Yes. Mr. Russia was always pointing it out, and the others looked after me, but you could tell it was because they felt sorry for me. Besides, if I were bigger, I could stay independent on my own. I wouldn't need anybody. Not even Mr. Germany." He rubbed his head sheepishly. "You know, I thought of going back to Mr. Germany a few times, while I was working for Mr. Russia. I even tried to convince the others to come with me. I just… never got around to doing it, is all."

"Was it important that the others come with you?"

"Of course it was. I mean, we never had much in common, but we all knew each other, and our houses are very close. It would've felt strange to work for Mr. Germany alone. He's not scary in the same way as Russia, but he is scary. It would've been nice to have someone else there."

"But they were against it?"

"Yes. Estonia wanted to be independent, and he didn't care how long it took. I-I'm not quite sure what Lithuania wanted. He was always very quiet and very afraid of offending Mr. Russia."

"Were you afraid of that, too?"

"A-a little. Mr. Russia could be – what was the word I used, again?"

"Difficult."

"Right. He could be difficult when he was angry. The problem is that I couldn't be quiet like Lithuania and Estonia were, at least when he was around."

"So you were quieter when he was gone?"

"Well, you never really knew when he was gone. Like I said, he could be anywhere. I was always kind of worried that if I said too much away from him, it'd be worse than what I said in front of him, and he'd be really angry. I wasn't… silent away from him. Not exactly. I usually figured that if Lithuania and Estonia were talking, it was OK for me to talk, too. I just couldn't shut up around him, is all."

"Why not?"

"I just seem to say whatever pops into my head, and around him, that was never good."

"Because you didn't like him?"

"No!... Yes. He was always pressing down and making me small and scaring the others. Of course, I scared the others when I said stuff, But I didn't mean to! It was… it was an accident, is all."

"Did he ever hurt the others because of things you said?"

"A-a little. Once he told Estonia to go out in a snowstorm to buy new boots, and Estonia said that he'd be happy to go, and then I said that that wasn't what Estonia said last night, so Estonia started saying that he didn't mean it, and then Russia got _really _mad." He sniffed. "I didn't see Estonia again until the next morning, and he wouldn't talk to me for a little while."

They sat in silence for a little while, and then Austria glanced at his watch. "I think that that's all we have time for right now. We'll talk some more about this next week, but in the meantime, I'd like for you to think about what you've just told me, and what you think about Estonia right now."

"Y-yes, Mr. Austria. Goodbye."


	4. Notes

"Don't be silly, Mr. Austria. I've never been happier. Leaving Mr. Russia was the best decision I ever made."

"I'm not saying it wasn't. I simply asked –"

"- If I was happy. That's like saying you think I want to be back with Mr. Russia."

"Not necessarily. You could be unhappy for other reasons."

"Like what?"

"Well, your economy and cultural heritage both took a severe beating" _[Flinches at term "beating"] _"under Soviet rule. Rebuilding must be difficult."

"Not too difficult. It's nothing I can't handle."

"I see. You've been spending a lot of time with Finland and the other Nordics lately. Are they doing anything to help out?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't they? They're my brothers, after all."

"What about the other Baltics? Are they your brothers as well?" _[Visibly tenses at mention of other Baltics. Strong association w/ Soviet annexation probable.] _The pause had only lasted a couple of seconds, but given how relaxed and confident he'd been at the beginning of the session, it seemed far longer.

"… Sure. I mean, they're a little different. A lot different. I'm further north than either of them, so I'm much closer to the other Nordics."

"Even though you're not generally considered one of them?"

He rolled his eyes. "Come on. Don't tell me you buy that. All you have to do is come to my house to see that I'm a Nordic."

"But you're also a Baltic, correct?"

"Yeah. That's why Russia was able to make me come work for him so – so, ah…" He snapped his fingers thoughtfully. "… quickly. Man, if he'd had to cross the water to get at me, he'd have never managed it! We gave him a real fight, though. It sure wasn't easy for him."

"Even though it was 'quick?'"

"He took us by surprise is all. It happens to everybody once in awhile. You know that, right?"

"Of course."

"Has it happened to you?"

"Well, I was annexed by Germany in WWII, if that's what you mean."

"Yeah, but you were fine with that." _["__**you **__were fine with that."] _"When else?"

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "None that I can remember off the top of my head. Mostly, I've spent my history losing territory to form other independent countries. Hungary, for instance."

"Th-that's not the same!" He began to gesticulate wildly, growing increasingly agitated as he went on. "Mr. Russia _annexed _me. He spent most of his time trying to make me act more like him, b-by encouraging immigration and, um…"

"Deportations?"

He sagged back into his chair, massaging his forehead. "It started small enough, but it got worse fast. Every night with Mr. Russia, he'd do worse, take more. I still have the scars. I can prove it. See?" He rolled up his right sleeve to reveal a set of neat, mechanically spaced red marks. "What do they look like to you?" When Austria didn't answer, he got impatient. "Well, what do they look like?!"

"I'm not sure."

"Tally marks! Numbers. Counters. I'm not sure about the exact scale, but I think that each one counts for about 200 p-people." He dug his nails into his palms. Noticing the direction of Austria's gaze, he pulled his sleeve back. "Guess how many there are."

"I really don't –"

"Guess." _[Hostile. Projecting as aggression.]_

"One hundred."

"Higher."

"Two hundred."

"Higher."

"Three –"

"Higher." He paused, furiously rubbing his right arm, as if trying to force warmth into it after freezing. _[Shaking causes (possible): touch memory of cold, anger, fear] _"You're not going to get it, so I'll tell you. There're 375 of them. I counted myself. They're all in those neat little rows. He'd make a new one every so often.

Of course, that isn't all that Mr. Russia did. I've got others, from raids and demonstration repression. They're just… uglier. H-he beat me, too. That didn't leave scars… at least, not any that'll last. It just hurts. I always wanted to leave. I wasn't that scared of Mr. Russia, and I knew that I'd be better off without him, on my own for once." He got up and started to pace. "It's really a waste of time for me to be here, you know. Working in Mr. Russia's house didn't change anything about the way I think or act. This won't change anything."

"Are you sure?"

"Don't you think I'd know if there was something wrong?"

"Not necessarily." Austria smiled confidentially. "You know, I've seen you looking at my notebook. Do you want to see what _I've _been doing?" Estonia stared at him incredulously for a moment, then nodded. Austria ripped out a page and handed it to him.

"So what's this, then? It's just more marks."

"Guess."

"Oh, c'mon. You're not really going to make me –"

"You made me. Go on. Guess."

"Um… When I gave you the number of people each mark meant, you tried to break down one mark into two hundred little ones. One for each person."

"Interesting guess, but no."

He studied it. "There's two columns. Are you comparing me with someone else?"

"Sorry, no."

After a couple more minutes of looking, he shrugged. "I give up. What are they?"

"The left-hand column is the number of times you've referred to Russia in the past hour. Just 'Russia.'"

He looked. There were four parallel marks, crossed neatly with a fifth. (He wondered if writing sheet music had improved Austria's penmanship.)

"And the other one?"

"The big one is the number of times you've called him 'Mr. Russia.' You also called him 'sir' once or twice, but I figured that including that would be cheating."

He looked. Then he looked again. He started counting, marking each neat bundle with a number. Finally, he looked up at Austria. "There's no way," he said flatly. "I couldn't possibly have said it that many times. I'd've noticed."

"Would you? It seems to me that when you did just say 'Russia,' you were making a conscious effort to do so. When you aren't paying attention, you go back to using the honorific." He stared at the sheet in horror, then gestured mutely towards the clock. "Yes, you're right. Our time is up. Shall I see you next week?"

He nodded and backed out of the room, clutching the sheet of tally marks to his chest.

* * *

**I hate authors that leave notes like this, but I couldn't resist. Over a thousand words of almost pure dialogue! Yes!**


	5. Whispering

_ The screaming had been going on all afternoon. Latvia had broken a porcelain bowl and Russia had found out. It was as simple as that. Making that sort of mistake in Russia's house was asking for trouble. It was one of the most obvious safety tips out there. Don't get near a downed power line. Don't play with matches. Don't irritate Mr. Russia. Everyone knew that._

_ That didn't stop Lithuania from flinching every time the boy shouted. Estonia had watched him earlier to make sure he didn't do something clumsy, but the other nation had his own chores. Now it was all Lithuania could do to focus on the task at hand: laundry. He put extra care into it, treating each shirt as an item of special importance, trying to block out the noise._

"_Help, he's hurting me! Please stop, sir! I'll do anything if you – agh! Estonia! Lithuania!"_

"Lithuania!"

He jumped and spun around to face the speaker, almost dropping the dish he was washing. "Oh, I'm sorry," he murmured with a slight smile. "Was I doing it again?" (That constant whispering was getting annoying.)

"Yeah. You were zoned out for, like, five minutes." Poland was sitting the wrong way a wooden kitchen chair, tilting it on its back legs as he leaned forward. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing in particular." Poland's raised eyebrow implored him to come up with a better excuse. "Just… wondering why you want me to start talking to Mr. Austria. Do you think there's something to worry about?" (He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help feeling some satisfaction in seeing the awkwardness transferred to Poland.)

"Oh. Nothing like that. Not really. You've just been acting kind of, like, weird lately. Like, you zone out all the time. Do you even remember what we were just, like, talking about?"

"Um… You were telling me –"

"Wrong. You were saying something, and then you totally trailed off. It took me a couple of seconds to notice because you're, like, so quiet now."

"Sorry. Trade restrictions, right?"

"That was yesterday."

"Embassies?"

"Want me to just tell you?" Lithuania flushed. "Tourism. You were listing some, like, historical sites that people could visit for money. The last thing you said was that a bunch of famous stuff was broken and destroyed in, like, attacks."

"Oh, OK." He grinned feebly. "I'm as spacey as Latvia these days, aren't I?"

"I wouldn't know."

Wordlessly, Lithuania turned back to the dishes. The ensuing bout of awkward silence lasted far longer than Lithuania's had. He refused to let his mind wander, though. It would be too easy for Poland to notice again. (Besides, why savor past horrors when his present embarrassment was so difficult to ignore?) It wasn't until he'd carefully washed every one, drying each by hand until he couldn't tell it had been wet, that he turned back to face the eyes boring into the back of his neck.

"I don't think that I need to see Mr. Austria, you know."

"That's not what you told the others." (That nervous twitch made Poland want to hug him and strangle him at the same time.) Lithuania looked down and muttered something that Poland didn't catch. "Sorry, what?"

"They wouldn't have agreed if I hadn't said something," he repeated in an approximation of normal volume that sounded oddly forced. Suddenly, he looked up. "Wait, how'd you know?" (His voice was back down to a whisper, but at least he was meeting the other nation's eyes.)

"Austria told me. He was keeping an eye on you from the kitchen. Said that he only left because you guys couldn't, like, talk to each other with him around."

Lithuania nervously wrung the dishrag, realizing too late that it was still filled with water. "Sorry, I'll get that," he whispered, dropping to his knees and grabbing another towel off the counter. Poland watched him clean the water off the floor for another minute. "S-so, when'd you talk with Mr. Austria, anyway?" Aside from the slight stutter, there was no sign that he wasn't just chatting.

"Yesterday. He came over when you were out shopping. He called it a 'preliminary interview' or something."

"What'd he want to talk about?"

"Flying squirrels." If he'd been hoping to get a rise out of his friend, he was sadly disappointed. "Basic stuff. He wanted to know if you'd been eating, how you were sleeping, the way you've been acting lately. Stuff."

"How I've been acting lately. How's that, exactly?" He knew that he was approaching dangerous territory, but he couldn't stop pressing the issue. It was like running one's tongue a sore tooth every five minutes to see if it still hurt. It'd hurt, but there was something fascinating in it regardless. Everyone knew that.

"Like I said: weird."

"Weird how?"

"Aside from the spacing out, and the fact that you've almost stopped looking me in the eye?" The twitch was back, but Poland couldn't stop the conversation any more than Lithuania could. "Well, let's see. There's the nightmares, Oh, and you're not eating. Like, at all."

"Yes I am." The assertive (if muted) tone threw him off for a second. Only a second, though.

"Fine. Whatever. You don't eat with _me _anymore. You don't, like, say anything, ever. Even when we're talking, you're not in the room!" He rose to his feet, towering over the other nation. "And that _stupid _whispering. It sounds like you're afraid someone will hear you! Afraid _I'll _hear you! What do you think, Russia will hear you and take you back if you raise your voice?" He stood there, panting slightly. "Well?"

Lithuania's only response was to get up, trembling slightly. He didn't look at his friend once as he left the room.

As soon as he was alone, Poland's anger deflated. He'd crossed a line, and even though he wasn't sure where the line was, he knew it. He wanted to go after Lithuania: to say something, to apologize, to yell some more, even. Instead, he raised his voice loud enough for the Baltic to hear.

"Hey! You're going to see Austria this afternoon, right?"

Lithuania poked his head back inside the room and nodded once, firmly. Then he was gone again.


	6. Three Months Ago

They were both clean. Obsessively so, really. It was one of the few things they had in common. Cleaning and food. And beer. And weightlifting. And… well, it was more than either would care to admit. But cleaning was the one they were both proud of. Neither would characterize himself as a neat freak out loud, but they shared a secret pleasure in the comments of others to that effect.

As a result, when he had found Prussia's room at Germany's house a filthy, disorganized mess the week prior, Austria's first thought had not been, _'Is he OK?' _but rather, _'What's Germany going to do when he sees this?' _(To be fair, though, the two thoughts were very close together.)

Now he sat watching his brother across the kitchen table, slowly steepling his fingers. He was exceedingly proud of his outward calm. Congratulating himself on it did a lot to distract him from the panic.

"I was under the impression that you were fine." _'Cold. Icy, even. Dial it back a little.' _"Why didn't you tell me that something was wrong?"

"I didn't know at first, OK?" He absentmindedly swirled a ninth spoonful of sugar into a long since cooled cup of coffee. "I didn't even realize anything was… off until about three days ago."  
"What happened three days ago?" _'Note to self: buy more sugar.'_

"Germany took me to an American football game." He took a sip of the freezing, painfully sweet coffee. Pushing it to one side, he noticed Austria's look of confusion. "It's more like rugby than football. I suppose that's why America likes it. You know how much he hates being like England. He probably just made it up to - it's not important.

About halfway through the game, Germany got up to get us some drinks and food. While he was gone, someone tried to sit in his seat, and I didn't stop him. Of course, when Germany got back I pretended that I'd done it on purpose to annoy him. But I didn't. I'm not sure why I didn't say anything, but it felt weird somehow.

After that, things went downhill fast. I can't pay attention to anything, and it's starting to affect the way I do things."

"Does Germany know anything?" _'Please let me be wrong about the answer to this one.'_

"No, of course not." _'God, why do you hate me?' _"He'd just freak out. Hey, you're not going to tell him, are you?"

"That depends: are you going to do anything about it?"

"If by 'do anything about it,' you mean something boring and touchy-feely, of course not. I'll get over it. I just need to keep him from finding out until then."

"How do you intend to do that, exactly?"

"Easy. You can cover for me. I mean, you noticed the clothes thing, right? I wouldn't have thought of that. You can just do that sort of thing for other stuff. You know, just tell me when it's noticeable, and I'll stop doing it."

"And you expect me to help… why?"

"'Cause it'll make Germany freak out if he finds out there's something wrong." He leaned back in his chair and put his arms behind his head. _'You call that a masterstroke? No wonder you and Germany can't get along.' _

"It'll make him more 'freaked out' if I don't tell him and something happens later." _'Seriously, no comeback? I was sort of looking forward to that. Of course, telling Germany is going to be like – focus on the task at hand. Calm. Cool. Collected. Breathe.'_

"Nothing's going to happen. I'm fine."

"That's not what you said two minutes ago."

"It'd still be your word against mine."

"Because you're _so _much more trustworthy than I am and I have _every _reason to lie." _'Don't let him see you're upset. Focus on the fun of beating him in an argument. Don't worry.' _

"You can't tell him."

"Why not?"

"He'd worry. Or maybe he wouldn't, I don't know. Either way, I don't really want to see it."

"If I tell him, you won't have to be there for it."

Prussia pinched the bridge of his nose irritably. "Look," he asserted, moving his hands in short, precise gestures. "What's it going to take for you to shut up?"

"For starters, how about an explanation of the 'football' incident?"

"I told you, I don't know what happened! One second I was… me, and the next I was thinking that I couldn't take the other guy."

"Could you?"

"Of course I could! I'm way more awesome than he was. I can't believe I just let him do it! Suddenly I was thinking, 'What if he hits back?' and, 'Think about the consequences,' and all this other stuff." He pinched his nose again. "Look, I have a really bad headache. Just promise you won't tell Germany, right?"

"I'm going to think about what you just told me, and if I see any reason for concern, I'm going to Germany… but if I do, I'll tell you beforehand, and it won't be tonight."

"Thanks, you're the best! Well, actually I am. But you're close! 'Bye!" Prussia was gone before his brother had time to process the comment.

'_Well, that was rude. It wasn't important, though. The important part is what to do now. I can't tell Germany now, but I should probably tell him soon. He's bound to notice something's off the next time Prussia does something mature, responsible, and reasonably timid… I can't believe that that's what he's worried about._

_In any case, he's not going to be able to cover for long. It's only a matter of time before he loses interest in things more noticeable than neatness. Besides, Germany might know something I could use to help._

_I just can't believe that he's worried. Scared, even. What could have possibly changed – Russia. My brother. He hurt my brother. That sick, twisted… That might not be it. Stay detached until you know for sure._

_Calm. Cool. Collected. Breathe.'_


	7. Power

_ The sound of hollow metal hitting bone is difficult to describe. It isn't quite the thwack of something else hard hitting the body, and it isn't quite the sound metal hates when it hits anything else. The best way to describe it is a cross between the echoing, ringing clang of a steel plank dropped in a tunnel and the dull cross between a thud and a crunch that comes with broken bone._

Lithuania looked up politely, trying to conceal his embarrassment at having lost focus again. "I-I'd rather not talk about Mr. R-Russia, if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind at all. May I ask why?"

"Well, it's sort of rude." He smiled plaintively and went back to smoothing the wrinkles in Austria's couch. (It was times like these that Austria wished he had a pet. Stroking it would've given his guest something to do.)

"Rude how?"

"I-it'd be talking about him behind his back, wouldn't it?"

"Alright. If I might ask, do you always think that it's rude to talk behind peoples' backs?"

Lithuania was ostensibly still staring at the couch, but he was starting to shoot furtive, nervous glances at the other nation. "Y-yes, why?"

"Oh, I don't know. I just seems that if talking about people behind their backs really bothered you, you'd be angrier at Poland."

Really, it was strange that he couldn't control his flinching better. One would've assumed that Russia expected it. He was good at ignoring it, though, and almost immediately went back to looking at the couch. The wrinkles had been reduced as much as possible, so he cast about for something else to do. Rolling his eyes, Austria tossed over a necklace.

"Just finger the beads. So, what can you tell me about Poland?"

"I-I'd rather not talk about him behind his back either." His voice had dropped to an even lower volume, and it didn't take a psychiatrist to know that he was lying.

"I think you should, though. After all, Poland sent you here to talk to me. He must have been aware that I would ask you about him." In the ensuing silence, Lithuania didn't once meet his eyes. "Could you at least tell me something about your history with Poland?"

"Yes, I can do that. We became a commonwealth hundreds of years ago. It's been… complicated, but we more or less stuck together until the annexations began…" He shuddered slightly, then abruptly chirped, "I like Poland. He's friendly and upbeat. Why would I be angry at him?"

"Because he talked to me about you." The bluntness of the statement briefly shocked the other into startled eye contact. "I know that you know. He called me about your argument as soon as you'd left the house."

Lithuania's hands were still shaking, but he'd balled them into fists. Upon noticing it, he picked up the necklace again and went back to playing with the beads. "What did he say?" (Interesting how quickly the stutter went away when he was incensed.)

"That he'd yelled at you and frightened you, and that he didn't know how to handle this without hurting you. Oh, and there was something about being too stupid to do anything right. I really don't remember the details." He nonchalantly sipped his tea, watching the other's anger subside into concern. "He was crying quite a bit, as I recall. It made it somewhat difficult to hear him."

Lithuania sighed, twisting the necklace into a series of tight loops. He was careful to make eye contact when he finally answered. "Would you tell Poland that it's not his fault?"

"If I believe it isn't, I'll tell him. Unfortunately, I don't have much to go on." The slump of Lithuania's shoulders was encouraging, to say the least. "You know, I don't have to tell him what you say. In fact, thanks to doctor-patient confidentiality, I can't tell him anything too specific."

"… I don't know why I'm upset with him. I have no reason to be. He's nice, and friendly, and he lets me spend time at his house."

"What sorts of things do you do when you're at his house?"

"Housework, mostly. I don't mind. It's most of what I did back when we were a commonwealth."

"And Poland?"

"Watches TV. Reads. Designs clothes." He shrugged. "We both go to World Meetings, and we've always had mostly independent governments."

"So you're equal partners in the relationship."

"Yes." (It hadn't really been a question, but they both decided to let it slide.) "Poland thinks so, too, although he'd never admit it." He chuckled. "You know, every time I started beating him at chess or draughts or something when we started out, he'd claim that he could break the rules and beat me because of some 'Polish Rule.' It took me half a century to quit being so naïve about it and ask our boss. You should've seen the look on his face!" He laughed quietly for a few seconds before continuing. "Of course, Poland and I haven't played chess in years. We never seem to have the time anymore." His voice had been getting louder as he spoke; it was almost normal. "Anyway, I really don't know anything about our fight this morning. Do you have any ideas?"

"Yes, actually. I'm curious to see what you'll think."

He looked a little unsettled. Clearly, 'I have an idea' was not the hoped-for response. Nevertheless, he was confident enough to maintain (suddenly muted) nonchalance. "Go ahead. I'd like to hear it."

"I think that, whether he realizes it or not, Poland tends to let you do all the work around the house. Correct?"

"Yes, but that isn't a problem."

"Not by itself. According to Poland, you were doing the dishes when he started pressing you. He told you he'd been talking with me, which seemed to upset you, and then he yelled at you until you left. Is that about right?"

"About. Really, he only lost his temper because I aroused him. He wasn't pressing _me _at all."

"My apologies. In that case, why did you leave when you did?"

"It was getting too… intense. Like something out of a cheap drama. He was standing over me and yelling –"

"You were on your knees?"

"Yes. I was cleaning up a spill. Anyway, he mentioned Mr. Russia and… I don't know, it was just too much." He was tugging on the necklace now, testing its elasticity. The beads spun in glittering green circles as the strand vibrated. "Does any of that change your mysterious theory?"

"No. Actually, it confirms it." Lithuania was jerking the necklace faster and faster. It let off a satisfying twang with each of the increasingly powerful tugs. "As I said, Poland does tend to let you do most of the work, and I don't think that that was ever really a problem for you before."

"Before?"

"I was just getting to that. I believe that working for Russia as you did, for as long as you did, you're a little more conscious of… for want of a better word, let's say status. Boundaries, restrictions, power balance – to handle Russia's household, you needed to keep things like that in mind."

"Yes, of course. Is that a problem?"

"Not while you were there. However, you are now in a position where, although you are equals, you end up playing the subservient role. You may not work for Poland, but it can seem as though you do.

This morning, Poland lounged about while watching you work. When you talked with him, you discovered that he was upset with you, he was disappointed that he couldn't tell what you were thinking, and that he'd gone to me with almost complete disregard of what you would think. When you attempted to raise a minor assertive point, he lost control and became incensed whilst literally towering over you. Now, what does that remind you of?"

"… I don't think of Poland that way. He would never –"

"I'm not saying he would. I'm saying that it's likely that he's – however unintentionally – putting you in an emotional environment similar to that at Russia's house."

"No he's not."

That was when the necklace snapped, scattering beads on the floor. Lithuania immediately dropped to his knees, muttering apologies and assurances that he'd get them all. Austria patiently watched him pick them up, knowing that he wouldn't be able to focus until he'd finished. Once Lithuania resettled himself, Austria continued:

"Tell me, were you angry when you ran away from Poland, or afraid?"

"… Afraid. I thought that he… I'm not sure what I thought." He wrapped the now bead-less string around his finger, tightening it until the tip of the digit turned purple. "What do you think I should do?"

"Just be aware of it. If you feel yourself starting to get scared, just remember that it's not rational. Meanwhile, I'm going to talk to Poland."

"What? I thought you said –"

"I'm not going to tell him anything you've said specifically. I promised him I'd tell him what he could do to make you more comfortable, and I will." He pulled out a small gold pocket watch and glanced at it. "I don't care what Switzerland says. These are great. In any case, we're out of time for now. See you next week?"

"Sure," he said brightly. Austria almost jumped at the sound.

His voice was louder than America's.


	8. Omission

Latvia perched awkwardly on the end of a large, overstuffed chair. He'd tried leaning back in it at the beginning of the session, only to sink back into it. Austria knew better than to help him as he struggled to get out, only expressing his embarrassment in a strained smile as the smaller nation maneuvered to a more secure position.

"Is Estonia mad at me? For what I said about him around Mr. Russia?" The abruptness of the question took him by surprise, but there was only one answer anyway.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you anything from his sessions. That would violate doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Oh… So, I visited Mr. Germany a couple of days ago."

"Really? How was that?" _'And why didn't he mention this to me?'_

"Strange. N-not that it wasn't n-nice, mind you. I-it was j-just a bit odd. Mr. Germany was k-kind of confused by me. He, um, he didn't seem to… understand why I'd want to see him. To talk to him."

"Why did you want to talk to him?"

"Oh, um… there were some issues with NATO and the UN, and he's the country outside the USSR I know best. I figured I c-could ask him about membership, m-maybe some economic aid, that sort of thing…" He took another sip of his tea. "This is really good. Have I mentioned that before?"

Austria smiled gently. "I don't recall. However," he added, setting his own cup down, "I don't think that that's really what you want to talk about. How did the discussion about NATO go?"

"Great! Really great! Terrible. I guess I'd been expecting Mr. Germany to… remember me better. It was mostly confused, awkward silence." He gazed at his cup pensively and sighed. "Then he broke the silence. Said he was sorry. He didn't cry or anything. He's not one of those countries that get all touchy-feely. That sort of made it worse, though. It was like he wanted to cry, or yell, or do something, but he didn't." _'Ah. There we have it. He and Prussia really have too much in common.'_

Austria vaguely remembered hearing something about Germany's treatment of Latvia during the occupation. It hadn't been good, and while it had never occurred to him to ask his brother about it, he was starting to wonder if that hadn't been an oversight on his part.

Out loud, he did his best to stay focused. "I take it that you didn't know how to react."

"Would you've known? I just sort of muttered something about forgiving him and left. I figured if I tried to say anything else, he'd take it the wrong way. Now, though, I wonder if that was a mistake."

"A mistake? How so?" he asked brightly. _'I'm going to kill Germany.'_

"Well, he might've taken _that _the wrong way, or he might've taken it too seriously, or-or something. I mean, I know that I usually just blurt out what I'm thinking, but maybe I lied, or I didn't think it through enough before speaking."

"Have you forgiven him?"

"Of course I have! … maybe. I haven't really had time to think about it, you know? I get that Mr. Germany wasn't quite… right when he occupied me. At the same time, living with him was, in some ways, just a little bit… worse than living with Mr. Russia." Austria was still considering his response when the smaller nation jumped up as if struck. "Oh my God you're Germany's brother look I'msosorryIdidn'tmeantosay –"

"Latvia!" The smaller nation fell silent. _'Great. Now he's afraid of me, too.' _"Please sit down and relax. I'm not upset with you." Shaking heavily, Latvia retook his seat. "I seriously doubt Germany is, either. He's probably more worried that you haven't accepted _his _apology than irritated that you haven't offered him one."

"Well, what's he told you?"

He could've smacked himself. _'Of course. That's a perfectly reasonable question, too. Why wouldn't he have approached me about it?' _"I'm afraid I can't tell you anything from our conversations. That would violate doctor-patient confidentiality."

"But he's your brother!"

"All the more reason to stick to my ethics." Latvia turned red and muttered some quick apologies about implying that Austria's ethics were optional. _'Well, at least he believed it.' _

…

Each knock was succeeded by another before the first had time to die out. _BLAM! BLAM! BLA – BLAM! BLA – BLA – BLAM! _Austria stepped back for a second, panting slightly.

"Germany! Germany, I know you're in there! I may not be as strong as you, but I will break down this door! Get out here before I have to go in and drag you out!" _'I look,' _he briefly reflected, _'like a lunatic. God help me if one of the Baltics should see me here.' _A second later, though, his fury was back, obscuring his forethought.

"GERMANY!"

"Alright, I'm coming!" someone snapped from inside. A minute later, Germany opened the door, his initial expression of frustration replaced by one of concern as he surveyed the disheveled, panting man. "Come in," he said calmly.

He waited until they were both seated in the living room before continuing. "What should I do for him?"

"What?! Oh, right. It's not Prussia."

"Hmm. What is it, then?"

"Why didn't you tell me that Latvia visited you?"

"It didn't occur to me that it was important, and it isn't."

"He says you apologized."

"That's irrelevant. It's none of your concern. Now, if you have nothing to tell me about Prussia, may I suggest that you leave?" He gripped Austria's arm (with perhaps a bit more force than necessary) and escorted him to the door. The slight suggestion of force became a shout as he shoved his brother out the door.

"You should tell me these things. It's important to Latvia, and, may I add, to you."

"There's nothing to tell," he replied sharply. With that, he shoved the door in Austria's face.

_ 'Really,' _he thought. _'I may not tell people these things either, but at least my way is polite.' _With that, he straightened his glasses (knocked askew by the force of his motion) and left.


	9. Laughter

The next day, faint laughter announced Estonia's presence. Austria listened cheerfully as the distant, muffled chuckling grew into the loud guffaws of a conversation. He wasn't in the least surprised to learn that Estonia had brought one of his brothers with him, but the discovery that it was one of the – for want of a better word – _fun _Nordics was an undeniably pleasant one.

"So then," Estonia was saying as he opened the door, "the guard asks him why he's opened the envelope, and he explains that he wants to know whom he's voting for. The guard says, 'Don't you know that this is a secret ballot?'" At this, he and – what was his name? – Finland burst into fresh peals of laughter. Austria smiled and opened the door to let them in, only twitching for a second when he noticed Sweden silently following.

"We don't need to stay," intoned the taciturn nation. "We're just leaving Estonia here." At that, Estonia blanched. Austria opened the door a bit wider.

"Please, come in. I get so few guests these days." He noticed out of the corner of his eye that both Estonia and Finland seemed inordinately relieved when Sweden nodded.

"Well, then, right this way. I'm afraid I was only planning on Estonia, so I'll have to get out some more snacks. I have it on Latvia's authority that they're excellent, so I encourage you to try them." He wouldn't have bet on it, but he could've sworn he saw Sweden smile. Finland chuckled nervously.

"You know, if this is confidential or Estonia doesn't want us here, we could always –"

"It's fine," Estonia blurted out. "I like having you here. Besides, Sealand wanted to visit Latvia today, and neither of them wants adults around. I mean, I know when I was smaller, I couldn't stand being around Norway for more than ten seconds." _'Ah. I see where this is going. Points for cleverness.' _

"So I take it you've been spending a lot of time at Finland and Estonia's house?"

"Yes. Sometimes I'll hang out with Denmark, Norway, and Iceland once in a while, but not too often."

"Do they make you uncomfortable?"

"Ever met Norway? He's so intense. And Iceland is the same way. It's no wonder they're brothers. Denmark's fun, though. Sometimes I'll chat with him outside World Meetings."

Personally, Austria found Denmark as irritating as Prussia, but he understood the sentiment. "He's very laid back."

"You bet he is! He makes Finland look uptight, and Finland is _not _uptight." The country in question blushed, holding a cookie halfway to his mouth. It was strange how quiet and restrained he was most of the time, except when he was around Sweden.

"You and Sweden used to live with Denmark, correct?"

"Yes. We're still pretty close to him, since we're all Nordics, but living with him was a little annoying."

Estonia's laugh, suddenly high-pitched and abrasively loud, interrupted. "Come on. I don't think that Austria needs to hear about that. H-how did the wife carrying competition go last weekend?"

"Oh, great. I was worried that I wouldn't win, you know, and you got very close…"

"You're so modest. Isn't he modest? Honestly, I don't know how Sweden got so lucky."

"Yes," said Austria gently. "Tell me, what was Denmark's house like?" he asked Sweden.

A bemused eyebrow jumped an inch before the taller nation answered. "It was fine."

"Then why did you leave?"

"Oh, we just didn't like working for another country is all," interrupted Finland cheerfully. "I mean, Denmark was annoying, but he was nice to us, and he didn't hit us. He wasn't at all like… Latvia's right. These are delicious." _'It was a good plan, Estonia, but you should really choose your accomplices more carefully. Ah, well. Time to press the advantage.'_

"Russia, right? Denmark wasn't as bad as Russia." Finland had frozen upon realizing his mistake. Now he awkwardly chortled, lowering his shaking hands to his lap.

"I really wouldn't know. Actually, I was thinking of –"

"But you would know, wouldn't you? There was a brief period when you were controlled by Russia in the early 20th century."

"I don't think that that really counts. I mean, Russia was very different back then. For one thing, his bosses –"

"What was it like working for him then?"

"Perhaps we should go. You have a lot to discuss with Estonia." He rose quickly. "Sweden, I think that Sealand might be lonely without us."

Sweden was still seated. He looked up at his "wife," face displaying open confusion. "You haven't told me about that." Although his voice was its usual expressionless self, there was a mysterious undertone to his words. Guilt? Pain? Whatever it was, it made Finland retake his seat.

"It wasn't that bad, Sweden. Really it wasn't," he murmured, rubbing the taller nation's shoulders and smiling warmly. "Russia wasn't half so bad then as he is now. I'm just glad that he didn't annex me when he, um, when he –"

"When he annexed Estonia?" Estonia flinched, but he did a masterful job of hiding it by smacking himself in the face. Sweden slowly pulled Finland into his arms, moving over slightly so the other Nordic could sit next to him. Austria continued to eye the pair expectantly, stopping only when Finland extricated himself and sat up.

"Well, um… yes. Surely Estonia has told you about that."

"Do you think he would've brought you here if he wanted to talk about what happened to him?"

Finland rounded on Estonia, aghast. It would've been funny in almost any other circumstances. "You mean you only brought us here t-to _use _us? That is rude, inconsiderate, immoral, it's – it's… Sweden, what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Underhanded?"

"Precisely. Underhanded! You should be ashamed of yourself! Oh, don't look so upset." He pecked Estonia on the forehead. "I'm not that mad. I just think that you should be taking advantage of the opportunity to help yourself. These tricks are really beneath you. Come on, Sweden. We should probably go." This time, the tall blond left without protest.

Now that the tension of the moment was over, one would expect Estonia to relax. Instead, he shuddered, curling into a ball and placing his head in his hands. Austria noted the transformation out of the corner of his eye as he saw the other two out, politely assuring them that he didn't hold a grudge. He returned to his position, watching as the formally dressed young man cried into his arms.

"So I found out. You still managed to kill the better part of an hour with light conversation and jokes. Finland and Sweden don't seem to be angry with you. Why are you so upset?"

"You'll think it's stupid. I think it's stupid. It's ridiculous, really."

"Go ahead. I'm listening."

"I just remembered where I got the idea. To, you know, make you think I was relaxed and happy."

"Really. Where?"

"_Raskolnikov laughed as though he could not restrain himself. So laughing, they entered Porfiry Petrovitch's flat. This is what Raskolnikov wanted: from within they could be heard laughing as they came in, still guffawing in the passage," _he quoted sullenly.

"Well, what's wrong with that? We can't all have original ideas. At least you're well-educated enough to get them from Estonian literature."

"It's not Estonian. It's Dostoyevsky's _Crime and Punishment. _One of Mr. Russia's favorites." He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly holding back more tears. Austria silently passed him a tissue. "Thank you. Look, I know that you're busy, and the session is pretty much over, and I've just wasted a lot of your time, but could I stick around for a few minutes?"

"Of course. Would you like me to get you another mug of tea?"

"Actually, do you have coffee? With cream?"

Austria nodded and left him alone.

* * *

**My thanks to **_**Letters from Estonia, **_**the blog from which I got the joke.**


	10. Baking

Finland loved baking. He couldn't explain what it was about the activity that he found so calming, but whenever he started mixing flour and eggs, popping over to the cookbook every few seconds to check an ingredient, even for a recipe so well-known that the book was creased to the page, he found himself relaxing, humming without noticing it. As a result, anyone who knew him at all knew that at the slightest anxiety or provocation, he would be in the kitchen, cheerfully popping on cream-colored oven mitts or _tsking _as he took stock of the remaining chocolate chips. (Unfortunately, Sealand had something of a sweet tooth, and Sweden hadn't gotten the hang of being a "good example.") He smiled warmly and wiped his brow (with the oven on, the central heating was really too high), stepping back for a moment to admire his handiwork.

Ten neat batches of cookies sat before him. Seven on platters, three still cooling on racks. (Really more like 1 and 2/3 miscellaneous batches. They all preferred their cookies warm.) One was of thumbprint cookies and two were chocolate chip. The crinkles were almost gone, and the stained glass were almost ready to come out of the fridge. A neatly wrapped batch of meringues was by the door. (There had been two of those, but he had a particular weakness for the marshmallow fluffiness of the confection.) A tiny, neglected pile of macaroons lay untouched in a corner.

Most impressive, however, were the sugar cookies. Three batches in all, featuring over 40 patterns. Each one was lovingly, carefully frosted in an intricate design. Finland privately thought the sugar cookies were his favorite creations. He would spend many an hour slowly leaning over them, feeling their warmth waft up to his face along with their light vanilla smell, as he slowly added intricate whorls and curves to designs elegant in both their subtle elaboration and their deceptive simplicity. (In a rare moment of sentiment, Sweden had told him that it was a shame that they had to be eaten.) Brushing the flour off of his hands, Finland briefly felt as though the light, muted slapping was really a symphony of applause, a thousand spectators admiring his achievement. He chuckled and shook his head. It was fortunate that Estonia couldn't read his thoughts, or he'd be getting cracks about his role as a stay-at-home "mom" all week.

"What's so funny?" He couldn't help but jump a little. Sweden had a disconcerting way of entering rooms without being noticed. (It did help that, for all that his stare was intimidating, he ponderously munched on a chocolate chip cookie as he eyed the other nation.)

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking about baking." He laughed. "It's strange how something so simple can be so great for you. It must be awful for those who don't have hobbies. Of course, they probably do, but I've never really taken the time to check." Hugging himself in a free, thoughtless gesture, he turned around to see Sweden still crunching the cookie. Each slow, cracking bite seemed to echo in the small, well-lit room. "You know, speaking of weird hobbies, I can't believe that Austria's so good at making tea!" Sweden's eyebrow rose slightly. Mentioning Austria had been a mistake. "I mean, I can see why he'd like it, but I've been thinking about it, and I'll bet you that that blend he made us had some imported stuff in it. It was really unusual. Creative, you know?" Sweden didn't respond. He just kept chewing his cookie. "You know, when I met you, I'd've never had you pegged for chocolate chip. Honestly, I would have thought you'd prefer plain oatmeal, or peanut butter, or even something other than cookies. That's why the first time I baked here, I made you those rum cookies. They seemed like the sort of thing you'd like." There was a pause, and convinced that he'd successfully diverted the topic, Finland turned back to his work.

"What did Russia enjoy eating?" He froze. "You did cook for him, right?"

"Ah… yes. This and that, really. He liked little cakes a lot, and things from England and France. Those were very popular back then, you know." He focused on the stove, trying to keep his voice as light and airy as the dough he was beating. "I got to practice a lot of things from around the world. It was interesting experience, really." There was something wrong with the dough. Oh, he'd forgotten to add the last ¼ cup of flour.

"I can feel you staring, you know. Believe it or not, Russia wasn't so bad back then. I didn't really like working for him – but then, I didn't like working for Denmark, either." He released a tentative chuckle. It spread its wings and took off, only noticing after rising a couple of feet that its wings were broken. The joke fell with a flat thud. "He certainly wasn't anything like what I've heard about him these days." With horror, but unable to stop himself, he watched his right hand drift down to rub his left wrist. He could feel Sweden's eyes on the limb like a persistent rash. His rubbing turning to scratching, he continued, "Anyway, it's not really your business, and I'm busy, so would you please leave?"

He could've sworn he heard the rustle of a raised eyebrow. Neither of them was accustomed to such directness from him, and they both knew it. He involuntarily tensed, half-expecting his partner to yell, or say something reassuring, or perhaps come up behind him and hug his waist. (It had never happened, but there was something in that concerned look he _knew _he was getting that suggested it.)

He stayed that way, waiting patiently. One minute, two, three. The eyes continued to bore into him, making him squirm and twitch as if impaled on their stabbing points. The dough was more than sufficiently mixed; any more and it would lose its buoyancy. Sighing deeply, he lowered the thick wooden mixing spoon.

"Alright, look – " he started, then broke off. There was no one else in the room.

Sweden had left five minutes ago.


	11. Housework

Finland had more in common with Estonia than either of the other two Baltics. They were both Nordic in culture; they had similar tastes in food and entertainment. (For one thing, they both enjoyed wife carrying.) However, while Finland liked to bake and occupy himself to relax, Estonia did not. He preferred to go out and _do_ things, and Finland's love of puttering around the house was alien to him.

Lithuania, on the other hand, completely understood the compulsion. Had he not known both Estonia and Latvia, he would've assumed that it was a side effect of working for Russia. (The knowledge that it wasn't was an endless source of comfort.) It wasn't all baking for him, though. He smiled affectionately at the rag with which he was furiously scrubbing the dining room floor. After all, there was no sense in doing something fun but pointless to get rid of nervous energy when he knew that there was work to be done, work that he needed to do anyway.

He felt that twinge again. He hadn't mentioned it to Austria earlier, but he'd felt it in the office, too. (Of course, breaking the necklace hadn't exactly nominated him for king of subtlety.) If Austria was right, it was suppressed rage. Or fear, maybe. Of course, only one of those really made sense. He had no reason to be angry at Poland.

Two minutes later, it occurred to him that he was thinking that he should be afraid.

_'Austria said to think about why I'm thinking it. That'll stop it.' _Poland was never aggressive (except for that one time), he didn't yell, and he had never, _ever _hurt Lithuania.

_ The fingers tightening on his shoulder were hard and cold, bruising the raw, tender skin until – no. Focus on the problem at hand._

It was tempting to think that the problem had started in the kitchen, but it hadn't. Half the reason Poland had lost his temper in the first place was that he was losing patience with his friend's fear. It had obviously started earlier. Perhaps when he'd come back after regaining his independence…? No, that didn't make sense, either. He certainly hadn't handled it well, but it hadn't been anything new.

"_Lithuania! Welcome home!" Poland reached forward to hug him, then stepped back as he flinched. He managed a weak smile, still trembling. "Let me – let me get your bags. Like, it's great to see you again!" He took the suitcases and backed inside, careful not to get too close._

Noticing that his scrubbing had slowed as he thought, he sped up, the minor lightness of the wood marking a tiny clean circle. It overlapped slightly with a dozen such circles along the wall. Wrinkling his nose slightly, he dunked the rag in the half-sudsy, half-filthy water in his bucket and wrung it out. It felt as if he'd been cleaning for hours, and while he appreciated that his newfound inability to concentrate was making him slower, it still irked him that he hadn't finished the room yet.

There it was again. Maybe it _was_ anger. In that case, he would've felt it earlier than their first meeting after independence, which would explain a lot. He just couldn't believe that he was angry. It felt as though something as passionate and free as fury had to be experienced, had to barge down the door of one's thoughts and demand to be recognized. It wasn't something that could just sneak up and bother him.

"L-Liet?" _'Speaking of which…' _He looked up and smiled gently at the blond nation.

"Hello, Poland," he whispered. (He didn't even know why he did that, though he knew that it irritated everyone else.) "C-Can I help you with something?" They both flinched when he stuttered, and the ensuing silence was appropriately awkward. Poland recovered first.

"I was wondering if I could help _you _with something, actually." Lithuania blinked confusedly. "That, for example." He gestured to the bucket as he spoke, and after he finished, the hand hung in midair for a brief, disconcerting moment.

"Did Austria suggest this?" (That strange directness again. He supposed that he'd picked it up from Latvia.)

"Yeah. Does that mean you don't want me to do it?" Even though it would get him out of work, he seemed anything but excited at the prospect.

"No, I… You know what? Sure. Can you refill this with clean water? I'll get you a strip of cloth from the bowl."

"The bowl? Oh, _that _bowl. That explains so much. I thought it was some kind of Lithuanian decorating thing." He cheerfully hefted the bucket and raced to the sink, splashing a (surprisingly) small amount of water on the way. Lithuania carefully got him a strip, unfolding it so that he wouldn't accidentally get the whole thing wet at once.

He returned with the bucket a minute later. Lithuania was surprised: he'd even remembered to put a little soap in it. Noticing the water on the floor, he was careful in setting the pail down.

'_Of course, he's keeping at least a foot away from me. Probably doesn't want to scare me.' _There was something bitter in the thought, but he pushed it away. Instead, he turned to his friend, who had dropped to his knees and was trying to roll up a pair of frilly pink sleeves. _'Why would he? – Oh, right. Poland.' _It took almost a minute, but he managed to get the delicate _('Dear God, is that lace?') _material out of the way.

"You ready?" The other nation nodded. "OK. Just dip a little bit of it in and wring out the excess, like this…" Poland nodded attentively, copying the motion when Lithuania was done. "Scrub in tiny circles, and make sure that you don't just brush the dust around. I'll deal with the corners. That part's pretty much done, so how about you head that way and I'll finish this wall?" Another nod.

About five minutes later, Poland heard something. It took him a few seconds to recognize it as quiet humming. _'Quit it, Poland. You're going to totally blow it!' _He tried to stop, only to realize that it wasn't him. The tune was vaguely familiar, but it wasn't Polish. He glanced over at Lithuania. The other nation was working carefully, smiling his usual timid smile, apparently oblivious to the sound. Poland grinned and turned back to his work.

_'Lithuanian folk songs? If Austria had told me about this, I'd've started helping him clean ages ago.'_


	12. Anger

"He _what?_" It wasn't the first time he'd asked. It wasn't even the tenth. Germany seemed to be caught in an infinite loop of shock, denial, and rage. Unfortunately, those emotions weren't consecutive so much as they were determined to beat one another to his mind. Had Austria been in a position to do so, he would've loved to take notes. As it was, it seemed rather inappropriate.

Instead, he simply murmured an explanation (again) and waited patiently for Germany to tell him what he thought of the matter (again), which with any luck would be more coherent than his last opinion (although the odds were certainly against it). This time, however, was different. A new player, taking advantage of the squabbling forces of anger and fear, forced its way to the forefront. Germany simply collapsed into his chair, covering his face with his hands. He took a few deep, slightly panicked breaths before abruptly realizing that his brother was in the room, watching.

"How long has this been going on?" His voice was measured and calm again. When he raised his eyes, they were back to their usual look of disciplined attention. Only the slight whiteness of his knuckles as they moved to his knees suggested that remaining neutral was a struggle.

"He mentioned that things were starting to go wrong a few days ago."

"Was that when he told you, or when the problems started?"

"Umm…" Here was the part he'd been dreading. "It was when he told me."

He'd tried to tell Germany, he really had. Amazingly enough, the fact that they were brothers did almost nothing to keep them in contact, and when they did see each other, it was never for long and there were often others present. (Besides, although neither would be so rude as to say it, they weren't particularly close.) Going up to the other nation and giving him a casual summary on the way out of a World Meeting had seemed unnecessarily direct, and anything else would've been difficult to arrange.

Finally, he had hit upon the idea of waiting until Prussia left, then quickly coming in and informing Germany of events. (For the sake of his promise, he'd been careful to call Prussia at the office as soon as he was inside.) A small part of him wondered why it had taken so long to come up with something so obvious, but he shut it out in favor of the clearly upset man in front of him. A man who didn't seem sure how to respond to the revelation that it had taken days to reach him and inform him.

"Ah, I see. Perhaps we should set up some form of communication in order to facilitate cooperation in this matter." The stiff, awkward formality itself didn't imply anything amiss, but it seemed a little too normal for comfort.

"Excellent idea," Austria replied, matching the artificial tone and adding a weak smile. "Shall I give you my backup addresses?"

"Of course. I have a private office on its own line. Where's my pen… Ah, there we are." They calmly filled out neat little slips of contact information and slid them across the table, each imagining that the other was trying to make eye contact and studiously avoiding it. They both opened their shirt pockets and inserted the cards simultaneously. Then they both fidgeted for something to do (as Austria hadn't wanted the fuss of refreshment for what was supposed to be a short visit). Germany had just begun to seriously consider getting out his pocketknife and cleaning under his nails when Austria rose.

"I, um, have some things to do, so if there's nothing else, I'll just be…" He edged to his feet and slowly crossed to the door.

"Wait, what are you doing with him now?" The tone was mild, pleasant even. He clearly expected the answer to be reassuring, a basis from which to work.

He froze, one guilty hand dropping from the hat rack. "Now?" he asked innocently, face beading in sweat.

"Well, you must be doing something with him." There was a suspicious edge to Germany's voice now. "After all, he came to you days ago."

"Unfortunately, in spite of his initial… concern about his condition, I believe that Prussia has no interest in my services."

"I see." Suspicion had become something else. Something dark. "And he has expressed this by – what, exactly?" It was quiet now. Frighteningly so.

"He's – he's been avoiding me." If only he could grab his hat without being noticed. It would be so simple: grab it and run. That's all. He could feel the volcano building behind him, sense its heat on his back. Just when he'd started to inch forward again, it exploded.

"You're letting _that _stop you?!" There was real anger there now, and Austria turned to face it. _'Oh dear, that's an interesting color for a face.' _"Did you expect him to come begging you to help him? He's _Prussia_! I can't remember the last time he asked me for help, and I once saw him get beaten up by Canada!"

"Why was –"

"I don't know! He wouldn't tell me! And he's certainly not going to tell you anything if you don't make him!"

"Yes, b-but I –"

"But what? He's your brother. How hard could it possibly be for you to get ahold of –" _'One thing you can say for him: he's very self-aware.' _"I see." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, let's try this another way: I'll talk to Prussia, then he'll talk to you."

With an effort, Austria managed to regain his power of speech. "W-what exactly are you planning to say to him.?"

"That he needs to talk to you, and if he doesn't…" He made a gesture that was both indecisive and vaguely ominous.

"You can't threaten him. If you do, he'll come and see me, but he won't say anything." Flat, mechanical, clinical. _'Now where was that two minutes ago?'_

"I-I wasn't going to threaten him." Germany eyed his hand, still in the air, as if it had simply appeared there. "I just – he needs to understand that he doesn't have another option if he wants to recover."

"Could you try to think of a less… menacing way to put that?" Germany was still trying to think of an answer when they heard knocking. "That's probably Prussia. I should be going. I'll see you tomorrow, and you have my contact information. Good luck." With that, he breezed out the door, exuding a confidence that reflected little more than his relief at the excuse to leave.

"Hey, Austria. See you tomorrow!" Prussia waved cheerfully as his spectacled sibling. "So, Germany," he continued as he hung up his coat. "I've got the best story about my day. I did the most awesome thing to Iceland! Oh, do you want wurst for dinner?"

"Sit down."

"What?" He seemed genuinely confused, enough that Germany almost wondered if Austria had been lying. Almost.

"Sit down. We need to talk."

"Oh, OK. Can I just –"

"No. Now."

"… Oh."


	13. Effects

He leafed through the fourth volume of _Tõde ja Õigus_absentmindedly, trying to resist the hum of his computer. It was amazing, really, how addictive those things were. One moment he would be cleaning his kitchen or reorganizing his bookshelf; the next he would be scrolling through message boards and checking the number of posts on the day's blog entry. It was both distracting and disquieting.

He irritably turned his attention back to the book, turning a page before he realized that he hadn't really read the last chapter. He flipped back to the last place he distinctly remembered (which turned out to be the beginning of the section). He managed another two paragraphs before he heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called, slamming the book closed and tossing it on the coffee table. He considered getting up, but instead leaned back against his chair at the sound of the door opening. He looked up to see Finland's nervous smile. "Hello." He smiled indolently. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just thought I'd come to see you is all." He gestured towards the couch. "May I…?"

"Of course." The other nation collapsed into the proffered couch. That was when Estonia noticed something odd. "Where's Sweden?"

Finland stiffened, then awkwardly shrugged. (That wasn't right. He only got nervous around Sweden's icy stare.) "At home, I suppose. I haven't seen him all day." It was obvious that Sweden was a touchy subject, so Estonia reluctantly let it drop.

Nervously toying with the couch's arm, Finland glanced at the coffee table; then looked closer. He shot Estonia a curious glance. "_Tõde ja Õigus? _I haven't seen you read that in years."

Now it was Estonia's turn to feign nonchalance. "Oh, I saw it on the shelf and figured that it had been awhile. I couldn't resist picking it up again."

"Hmm… How long have you been reading it?"

"Oh, about an hour."

"And you're already on the fourth volume?"

"Oh, um, well…" He didn't want to say that the fourth had been the only one he could find quickly, and he'd been too lazy to go to the library. "Yes. It's just that I remember the others so well that I really just wanted to go back over this one. It's an excellent piece, you know."

"Yes, I remember how excited you were when publication started. You wanted me to read it all, right away." They both chuckled a bit at the thought. Neither was sure who exactly changed the subject, but soon they were talking about the latest art shows, the new statue America had commissioned from France, and a hundred other safe, normal topics. Before they knew it, the initial stiffness had settled into the conversation of old friends.

Two hours later, they were well into their impressions of other countries.

"No, no, no. He always accents the _first _syllable of "HE-ro," never the second."

"I'm telling you, you're crazy!"

"Tell you what, how about we call him up and ask him what he thinks of the American Revolution? We can take notes." They looked at each other seriously for a few seconds, then dissolved in laughter.

"He would totally say –"

"' - England wasn't respecting my rights, so I had to –'"

"' – be the hero!'"

"No, no, you're mispronouncing it again!"

"H-how would you know?" Estonia was still doubled over when Finland rubbed a few tears from his eyes and looked at him.

"Hey, Estonia?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Why _are _you reading _Tõde ja Õigus_, really? I know that you'd rather be online right now." Estonia straightened, his smile falling away. (His giggling fit had left its marks in some slight hiccups, but he valiantly ignored them.)

"I wanted to read something of mine."

"Why?"

He rubbed his arm. "Like I said, it's been awhile. I read through some poetry, too, but I figured I had the time to read something longer."

"Yeah, but… why?"

"You mean Austria didn't tell you?"

"No." There was a pause as Finland recalled their last meeting. "Is this about that trick you pulled on me and Sweden?"

"Sort of." Briefly, he related the inspiration for his plan. Finland listened with initial confusion, then concern, then something that looked surprisingly close to outrage. When he'd finished, Estonia quietly waited for a response.

"That's horrible!" The vitriol in his tone was surprising. "I mean, isn't it enough that he took your independence? Did he have to take that, too?" He rose to his feet and started to pace. It took only a few seconds for self-consciousness to set in; he sat down again, face flushing slightly.

"It's not a big deal, you know. It could've been much worse. He could've taken my music, my food… everything, really. And it's not like anything's _gone, _really. It's just… different. Mixed with something else." He shrugged. "I know it makes me sound like a traitor, but I _like _Dostoyevsky, even though it reminds me of…" He trailed off.

"Him."

"Yeah." He was ashamed to hear the suddenly choked huskiness of his words. "Him."

It sounded as though he were about to cry. Mercifully, Finland was too unsure of how to react to say anything hopelessly trite. He simply fidgeted, wondering if perhaps a comment on the décor would send the conversation into safer channels. After a moment, though, Estonia got enough of a hold on himself to continue.

"I'm not upset. I'm not sure what I am, but I'm not upset."

"You seem pretty upset." He wondered if there was anyone he could pay to remove his tongue.

"No, that was… an aftershock, I guess." He chuckled. "I haven't thought about it a lot, you know, and now that I am, some of the old stuff is starting to come back."

"Yeah…" he mumbled thoughtfully, lost for a moment in his "discussion" with Sweden. Noticing the other nation's stare, he hurriedly refocused. "That's probably Austria's doing."

"Probably," he agreed. He picked up the book and fingered its spine. "Anyway, I have reading to do, and while I'd hate you to think I was pushing you…"

"I get it." He rose. "I have some business to deal with in any case. Thank you for a wonderful afternoon." A warm, if somewhat formal, handshake ended the visit.

After Finland left, Estonia opened his book and tried to find where he'd left off. He read for a few minutes, then shut it again, more decisively than before. Muttering "Screw it," he set off for his computer. There was still time to update his Facebook page before dinner.


	14. Encounter

"You didn't need to go and talk to Germany about me." Austria eyed the smaller nation incredulously. He blushed for a moment; then regained his composure. "I know that that's why you were at his house the other day. You looked really angry. H-he doesn't need you to yell at him. Not on my behalf, anyway."

"Indeed not," Austria cheerfully agreed. "That's why I wasn't seeing him about you." _'I don't care how often they say a lie by omission is still a lie. I can't resist it.' _Latvia didn't look particularly convinced. "If you absolutely must know, I was seeing him about some family business." _'There. That should be enough truth to satisfy Latvia and Emily Post.'_

"Family business." _'Or not.' _

"Yes. There were some things Prussia and I had to clear up." At the sound of "Prussia," there was a bang from the kitchen. Both nations jumped slightly in their chairs.

Austria was the first to recover, abashedly dabbing at his sweaty face with a handkerchief. "I'm so sorry. I have no idea what that was. I should go check…" He rose, but Latvia was quicker, as if he sensed a secret. He hurriedly got to his feet, muttering something about "checking on the food," and raced to the kitchen door, teacup still in hand. Said teacup remained from Austria's empire days, and as such was worth well over €100. He did not appreciate seeing it smash to the ground. (To Latvia's credit, once he recovered from the initial shock, he was duly contrite.)

The cup was ignored in favor of the pale figure shakily cleaning up the equally pale fragments of another broken piece. _('My best china, too,' _Austria thought crossly. _'I'm having the worst of luck today.') _

"P-Prussia?" stuttered the diminutive Baltic disbelievingly. Prussia looked as though he couldn't believe it, either, and he recovered from his mortification for long enough to give Austria a long, aggrieved look. In a flash, his focus was back on Latvia. Then, all at once, he smiled, showing rows of straight white teeth. He stood up and laughed expansively, reaching forward to put one hand on the newcomer's shoulder.

"Sorry if I startled you, but you know how it is. It's hard for a country as awesome as I am to skulk around, especially in a cramped little house like this." Austria was somewhat surprised that he could still find it within himself to bristle, but bristle he did.

Prussia ignored him, leaning in closer to examine Latvia. "You're one of those Baltics, right? The ones he's seeing every week."

"Y-yes." Latvia held out his hand for a painfully vigorous pumping. "I-it's Latvia," he added when he realized no further questions were forthcoming.

Sure enough, Prussia had already seemed to lose interest in him. He backed off of his brother's patient to survey the tea service. "Man, you do _not _look happy," he joked at the scowling brunette. "Is it because the little guy – Lativa, right? – broke your fancy cup?"

That was when Latvia noticed the shards of porcelain on the floor around him. "OhmyGodI'msosorryI'llpaytohaveitreplacedifitisn'tanheirloom – it'sanheirloomisn'tit – ohGodI'msosorryIdidn'trealizeyou – " He continued in a similarly incomprehensible strain for well over five minutes, pausing only occasionally to breathe. (Austria spared a thought to how incredible the boy's lung power really was.)

With no small effort, both Prussia and Austria managed to tune the continued apologies out, focusing on their mutually guarded and obstinate expressions. For a moment, it was as though they could hear one another's thoughts. Both knew that Prussia had been asked to stay upstairs when the Baltics visited, and both knew that he wouldn't have forgotten Latvia's regularly scheduled session. He was intentionally making a show of independence, and while his point had been proven, his slight nervousness at being talked about and spotted had made him eager to prove it further, just to be safe. As a result, while the intelligent thing to do would've been to retreat upstairs so that Latvia might talk with Austria in peace, he wouldn't leave.

All of this information passed between the pair in the time that it took Latvia to exhaustedly run down. He concluded with a final, " - I'mreallyreallysorry," then paused for long enough to _consider _the situation. He rounded on Prussia. "Hey, wait a minute," he said suspiciously, staring directly into red eyes. "Why are you here?"

"I? Oh, I'm, umm… I'm um…" Prussia made a hopelessly indecisive gesture and trailed off. "You know, Austria can explain it better than I can. Austria?"

Austria glared at his brother for a long moment. That's when he decided it. Prussia had, intentionally or no, violated his patient's privacy. Now it was time to return the favor.

He made sure that his tone was as flat, factual, and blunt as Latvia's had been when he turned to the smaller nation and replied, "He's here for the same reason you are."

Had Latvia been carrying another cup (which, thankfully, he wasn't), he would've dropped it. As it was, the only thing he could drop was his jaw, which obligingly fell a good inch further than most would believe possible. Seemingly unaware of it, he raised a finger and pointed it at Prussia, stuttering, "H-he, h-h-he?"

Amazingly, it was Prussia who eventually took pity on the boy's apparent inability to string thoughts together. "Yes, me," he said in an uncharacteristically solemn tone.

"Well, then," Austria interrupted briskly. "I suppose that Latvia and I should get back to it." He smiled clinically at his brother, confident that he was once more in control. "Would you please go upstairs until we've finished?" Prussia nodded mutely and left.

Austria tried as hard as he could to not feel smug about his victory. _'After all, part of the reason you don't want family members or close friends treating each other is that the personal relationships and conflicts start to interfere with the therapeutic environment… And vice-versa. Perhaps Prussia should find someone in his own country to work with him._

_ On the other hand, it's not as though a non-nation would understand what he's been through. Maybe if I could find someone else highly regarded for therapy…'_

Offhandedly assuring Latvia (again) that he wasn't upset about… something, Austria went back to the main room and picked up his notepad. _'Meanwhile, back to the business at hand.' _

"So, how's industrial catch-up going?"


	15. Dress

Lithuania was reading through a cheap novel when a thought occurred to him. He glanced over at Poland, who was engaged in drawing a dress that looked suspiciously big on him. _('Never mind that. He'll never make you wear it.') _

"Poland?" When the plaintive whisper failed to rouse the other nation from his task, he raised his voice. "Poland. Poland!"

That did it. Poland looked up with a slightly bewildered expression. "Yeah, Liet?" He glanced down at the book and smirked. "The saucy adventures of Prince Charming beginning to get old?"

"I-I… no!" He flushed a deep red, feeling himself involuntarily relax. "Would you just listen?" he added, forcing his composure back. "I have something to ask you."

Poland set his pencil down and turned to face his friend. "Shoot. What's up?"

"Would- would you be interested in…" The rest of the sentence trailed off in a mumble.

"Sorry. I didn't quite hear you. And I swear, I was, like, totally paying attention that time! I was!" Lithuania seemed to believe him, so he moved on. "So what was it?"

Lithuania cleared his throat. "Would you be interested in – in coming with me to see Austria tomorrow?"

"What? I… Yeah! Yeah, sure!" Poland grinned widely, and he would've vaulted forward to hug his friend if he hadn't suddenly remembered. (They both did their best to ignore his aborted attempt to stand up.) As it was, he settled for a few hearty assurances of his presence. Lithuania's quiet smile was all that he needed to tell him that it was the right response.

They both turned back to their separate tasks, relaxing in the glow of the fire. (Poland had chopped the wood for it, and he couldn't help but think that it was especially bright for his efforts.)

_'I wonder what he's thinking?' _he thought, sneaking a glance at the brunette bent over his book. _'God, I hope he didn't get too good a look at the plans for the dress. I wanted it to be a surprise. Now, what color would look good on him? He's got that gorgeous shoulder-length hair, though the way it just hangs there… Maybe if I got him to wear it up, or put a headband in it, or just do something with it… Of course, Austria said I can't make him do stuff. That'd just freak him out._

_ Like, everything freaks him out now. How could he, like, worry about asking me to therapy with Austria? God, he just asked me to therapy with Austria. Is that bad? Maybe I should ask Aus – oh, right. Duh._

_ Right, color. So, his hair is kind of stringy and straight, but it's nice and brown. And someone really needs to bring out the blue in his eyes. Sometimes, they look almost, like, green. I mean, it totally matches his uniform, but it'd just look muddy with a dress._

_ Brown and blue… brown and blue… I know, I'll go with, like, the whole river theme he's got going on! Oh, wait, no green. That'd look weird. And regular blue'd just fight with his hair._

_ Why didn't Russia make him cut his hair? He made him wear his military uniforms, like, all the time, and made him speak Russian all the time. Did –did Russia actually like his hair the way it was?'_ In spite of the warmth of the room, he shivered.

Lithuania noticed _('Of course')_, standing up and pulling a quilt from a small cupboard near the couch. He advanced with the blanket held up like a net. Remembering his sketches, Poland hurriedly leaned forward over his drawings.

"I'm fine! I'm fine, really!" he blurted. Lithuania only smiled gently and placed the offending covering over the other nation's shoulders. Then he stood and walked back to the couch.

_'Whew, that was a close one. Wait, did I just, like, snap at him!' _He looked up. Lithuania seemed fine. A cheerful insider's grin played across his face, probably enjoying a small joke in his book. To Poland, though, it looked as though he were holding back tears.

"Uh, Liet?"

He looked up innocently. "Yes, Poland?"

"Umm…" Suddenly, it seemed that he was getting upset over nothing, that he was just going to upset the other by bringing it up. At a loss of anything else to mention, he stuttered, "Never mind," and turned back to his work.

_'So where was I? Well, the color's not going to resolve itself, but I might as well focus on something else until some new ideas pop up. Now, sleeve length. Long or short… long or – ' _He snuck another look. Lithuania was wearing what he jokingly called his "casual uniform:" vest, corduroys, socks, and a long, white shirt. Even though the fire was sweltering, his sleeves were pulled up over skinny wrists.

_ 'Definitely long. He'll like that. Maybe I can give them some style, though. Something long and droopy, like on kimonos. That'll let his arms breathe a little. I'll have to make them a bit more fitted around the cuffs, though, or he'll always be pulling them down._

_ I wonder what kind of stuff he wore in his off-duty hours at Russia's place? Probably didn't wear shirts much at all, to look at his – no! Like, stay with the dress! You've gotta start getting the material this week, and it'll take twice that long to convince Liet to model for you! He'll be all like, "I'm not putting that on if you pay me!"' _In spite of himself, he laughed aloud.

Lithuania looked up again. "What's so funny?" he asked in that (infuriating) whisper of his.

Poland's good cheer vanished. He did his best to smile, though. "It's nothing. Just thinking of what you'd say… it's nothing."

"Oh." Was it his imagination, or did the other sound slightly disappointed?

"You know, I noticed you looking at your book and chuckling a little." (Yes, he was embellishing, but he considered it justified.) "Mind telling me what that's about?"

"Oh. Nothing."

"Oh, OK." The silence was a little chillier than the last one as they both tried to recapture the earlier blissful atmosphere of shared industry. They struggled on for a few minutes more before Poland began to thoughtfully eye his companion.

"Yes?" The tone was nothing but polite. Poland couldn't help but think there was a slight edge to it.

"I was just wondering if – nah, you're gonna think it's silly."

_That _aroused his curiosity. "No, I won't. What is it?"

Poland couldn't resist. He held up an almost-completed drawing of an elegant silk dress. Between them, the long skirts and sleeves would cover the limbs of the wearer perfectly. A high collar brought 15th century fashion to mind even as the cuffed sleeves (complete with phoenix-shaped cufflinks) made it clear that it wasn't for a woman. Silently, he passed the drawing over to Lithuania, allowing the other nation to peruse it and note the tiny details. After a minute, Lithuania looked up and eyed him carefully.

"It's very… pretty. Original. It doesn't seem to be made for you, though."

"It's not." He was practically bursting with the enthusiasm and nervousness that every artist feels on presenting his creation.

"Wha – what did you want to ask me, exactly?"

Poland picked something off the table and edged over to sit as close to Lithuania on the couch as he dared. He carefully opened the thing _('What was it called? A swatch?'), _and lovingly flipped to a color marked by a small sticky note. (Lithuania had no idea how he could keep all of those sticky notes straight. There had to be at least twenty.)

"I like this color, but I don't _love _it, you know? So, what d'you think would look good on you?"

Shocked by the directness of the request, Lithuania looked at the deep blue in silence. _'How could be possibly think that I'd – want me to…' _There was nothing mocking in Poland's expression. There was only a sort of vulnerability, as though he was afraid that at any moment Lithuania would scream, or shrink away from him, or leave. Lithuania stopped for a moment to consider the chores Poland had picked up, the (mostly) uncomplaining way he'd moved their beds into separate rooms; the anxious, nervous smile on the face in front of him.

He edged over on the couch until he and Poland were almost touching. He handed the swatch back.

"I get what you mean. Maybe something in red?"


	16. Fairness

"It's wonderful to see you both, although I confess I'm a bit confused. Why is Poland here?"

"You mean you didn't tell him to bring me?" He didn't need to look over to see the slight look of irritation at the suggestion that Lithuania wouldn't do things on his own initiative. "I mean… Seriously, you didn't ask him?"

"No, I didn't. Tea?"

"No. What is it with you guys and tea?" Now he glanced over. Lithuania was curled in on himself, silent. "Um, sorry. I'll just be quiet now."

It might have been his imagination, but it seemed as though Austria shot him a quick nod of approval before turning to Lithuania. "Now, then, why…?"

"I thought that there was some - some stuff we should talk about," he whispered. "Together. A-and it seemed like this was a good place to do it." His hands were shaking slightly in his lap; he pressed them tighter together.

Austria nodded, clearly this time, and pushed his glasses up on his nose. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Th-that feeling I've been having. The one that you said meant I was a-angry at Poland. Or scared of him." Even though he'd invited Poland, Lithuania stubbornly avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the no-longer-trembling hands in his lap. "I was wondering if maybe we could try to figure out what it is. I-I've been thinking about it more, like you were telling me to."

"And what have you found out?"

Poland fought the irrational urge to laugh as Lithuania sat up straight. The neatly clasped hands, the hair, and the pose combined to lend an uncanny resemblance to a schoolboy reciting famous battles. The impression was only heightened by the straightforward, dull tone with which he spoke.

"I didn't start feeling it in the kitchen, or even when I first came to see Poland after independence. It started when I was still working for M – Russia." (Poland stifled a low gasp. He'd assumed that that particular quirk had stopped weeks ago.) He turned to Poland. "Remember, when I called you about Russia's plans to invade?" Startled by the sudden acknowledgement, Poland could only nod. "I-I think it started then, although it might've been sooner." He faced Austria again. "What do you think?"

Austria thoughtfully steepled his fingers. "What do I think… Well, do you remember how you felt after the call to Poland?"

"Worried."

"And?"

"A little angry, I guess. I sort of… yelled at the phone after he hung up. Estonia got really freaked out."

"That doesn't strike you as a sign of anger?"

"Not really." He shrugged. "I mean, I'm always a little annoyed by some of the stuff Poland does. It doesn't really mean I'm angry at him."

"But you were worried?"

"Of course I was. Russia was going to occupy him, and he wouldn't even do anything about it! I-I mean, I get that it's not _exciting _or _interesting _to talk about, but it's important. Maybe if he'd listened to me, he wouldn't have been occupied! A-and I don't even know what occupation was like for him. He didn't come to live with Russia and the rest of us, and while Russia went to visit him a lot, he never brought anyone with him." As he spoke, he had leaned closer and closer to the table, as if compensating for his difficulty in raising his voice. Now he leaned back in his chair and covered his face with one hand. "I just don't _know_, and it bothers me," he concluded.

Austria waited a polite moment; then turned to Poland. "Well?"

"Um… Huh?" _'Smooth. Real smooth. Now he's gonna think that you don't, like, wanna talk about it.'_

"Is there anything you'd like to say to Lithuania?"

He considered saying something about what had happened. About the occupation, the violence, the humiliating rules. _'Does he really want me to tell him about – no, he doesn't.'_

"I'm sorry," he croaked. He self-consciously cleared his throat before continuing. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

Lithuania removed the hand from his eyes enough to shoot an unsettling look at his friend. "What about telling me?"

"You really _want _me to?" Lithuania was still glaring at him. "Look, you have your own problems to –"

"That's no excuse." He was about to retort to Lithuania before he realized that he hadn't spoken. Austria looked mildly smug about the interruption, but it was hard to tell. "If he told you that he didn't want to talk to you, or me, because we 'have our own problems,' would you accept it?"

"That's different," he growled. _('Huh. Didn't know I could sound that scary.')_

"Different how?"

"Russia actually _hurt _him."

"And he didn't hurt you?"

"Not as much."

"How do you know?" That one surprised him.

"What do you mean, 'How do I know?' Of course I know. It's obvious!"

"Really?" He shifted slightly and surveyed them both. "Have either of you ever made any sort of concerted effort to sit down and _talk _about these things?"

"Well, um –"

"We were both so busy, and –"

"Wasn't sure he'd want to –"

They both fell silent simultaneously and looked at each other. The same emotions – embarrassment, confusion, fear – flickered across both of their faces. Both attempted to start again, but they were apparently incapable of moving or speaking. Then, the unthinkable happened.

They both burst out laughing.

"Oh God, the look on your –"

"Like you were so –"

"I can't believe we never –"

It was impossible for either to get control of himself for a few minutes. Amazingly enough, Poland was the first to recover. He slowly wiped the tears from his eyes, grinning as he watched Lithuania struggle to regain his self-control. Austria waited until Lithuania finally straightened up, still snickering.

"Better?" Lithuania nodded, still not trusting himself to speak. "Good. In that case, perhaps you two should come here together more often. It's clear that you have plenty to talk about."

In a moment, the tension of earlier was back. Not all of it, just enough for the ensuing silence to be more uneasy than thoughtful.

"… Yes," Poland finally conceded. "I mean, if that's OK with –"

"It's OK." He smiled, and there was real warmth behind it. "I'd love to have you."

They were still mostly silent as they got up and left, but when Poland moved to help Lithuania with his coat, the other nation didn't pull away.


	17. Gossip

The next World Meeting was, to put it lightly, an exercise in awkwardness. Between America and Russia (still) staring daggers at each other, Prussia and Latvia avoiding eye contact, Finland trying not to squirm under Sweden's gaze, and the less than subtle European nations who thought Austria would tell them how their friends were doing, it was all they could do figure out reasonable seating arrangements. Once they had, though, roll call went surprisingly well. (Amazing what fear could do to one's desire to attract attention.)

"Any new business?" America finally asked, silently daring Russia to say something. When after a few moments it became evident that _no one _was going to say something, he found himself getting un-heroically nervous. "Um… any new business? Come on, don't be shy?"

_'You can tell he's getting desperate,' _England thought, _'when he starts looking hopefully at Russia.'_

Aloud, he called, "No one brought an agenda. We never get through the preliminaries on these things. How were we to know that today was the day we'd finally get to new business?"

"Oh. I didn't think of that." He rubbed his head sheepishly. "So… any gripes?"

A moment later, he wished he hadn't asked. If there was one thing every nation was good at, it was complaining about other nations. Even if there were no looming diplomatic crises (which there always were), there were economic partnerships, deals, and jokes to be made. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to seek out friends and complain about enemies, never minding that said enemies were across the table affecting a similar attitude of apparent ignorance. Lithuania and Poland had pulled out a diagram of some clothes, China and Japan were arguing about pollution, Russia and Belarus (who looked relaxed for once) were mentioning 'Amerika' with an unsettling frequency, and as far as he was concerned…

"So I said to France, 'That's a job for a hero, make no mistake!'" _'Odd, Why are Finland and Estonia laughing?'_

"My God! How dare you! That – that - ca c'est faux! Il le disait, oui, mais alors, il s'est caché sous la –"

"I can't tell what he's saying, and I don't know French. Don't give me that look, England. Switzerland, you speak both, right? What's he saying now?"

"Um… I'd rather not tell you. It sounds better in French." The normally stoic nation looked surprisingly abashed.

"Well, whatever. I'll hear him when he switches back to English," he asserted over the continued tirade.

"I switched back to English three insults ago, you idiot!"

"You should've spoken up."

"I –I should've spoken up?"

"Yeah. I could barely hear you." Fortunately, France didn't catch his mischievous grin, and the "hard of hearing" bit continued long after it had gotten old.

"So…" he finally began. "Any idea what's going on with Austria and the, um… you know?"

England shrugged. "I daresay we can only assume that he's doing his best for them. It would be rude to pry, you know."

"What if –"

"_It would be rude to pry."_

"Yes, England." He was irritated to notice that the old habit of obedience hadn't quite left him. "What happened to your spying instincts, anyways?"

"They're as keen as ever. Just not about this. It would be wrong."

"What about you guys? You've heard something, right?"

"We-ell," whispered France conspiratorially, leaning in on the word's new second syllable. "I've heard – hang on, this might not be secure enough. Give me your ear." America eagerly did just that. The other hissed, "Well, Poland and Lithuania sont ensemble. Qu'est-ce que tu as présumé de moi? Je suis français, mais je ne suis pas un espionne!" He leaned back and grinned expectantly. "Does that answer all of your questions?"

America was bewildered, but his confused nod looked (he hoped) like one of authority. He quickly changed the topic back to how much he hated Russia.

…

After the meeting, Poland stayed to carefully roll up and stow his diagram. America took advantage of the opportunity to catch Lithuania on his way out. Apologizing profusely for not hanging out more often, he soon managed to bring up the subject of Austria's sessions. Again, he wished he had kept his mouth shut, as Lithuania got very quiet, very fast.

"Oh, geez, sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," he hurriedly appended. "It's just that France –"

"France was talking about this?"

"Well, not a lot, but – look, I'm sorry. I'm just wondering how you're doing."  
"Oh, um, don't worry. I was just a little… surprised. I guess it didn't occur to me that others would be interested. Stupid of me, really." He managed a weak smile.

"It's not stupid! I probably would've assumed the same thing." _'Strange. That didn't seem to help.' _"Anyway, I won't ask again if you don't want me to."

"It's fine, really. Things are going… well, I guess. It's easier being around Poland now, and I'm less scared around Russia than I was. I-I don't want to jinx it, b-but…" His voice dropped until America could only tell what he was saying by reading his lips. "I think I'm getting better."

"Hey, that's great!" Lithuania flinched at the unexpected volume. (Even America was a little surprised by how _loud _he sounded in the near-empty hallway.) Unfortunately, it was at that moment that Poland came into view.

"Hey, what are you doing with Liet!" he shouted. It only made the other nation's evident shock worse, which did little to help America's protestations of innocence. "Look, I know I'm not, like, as big or powerful as you, but, like, Liet's my friend, and if you ever come near him –"

"It's OK, Poland," Lithuania murmured, and even though his voice had been as low as always, they both stopped to look at him. He sounded tired, and irritated, and frustrated, but more than anything else, he sounded… _amused. _"We were just talking. America's an old friend, remember?"

"Oh." Poland deflated in a second. He turned sheepishly to America. "Sorry, then."

"No problem. I get it."

It wasn't until a few minutes after they'd left and started for home that Poland thought to ask:

"So, hey, what were you talking about, anyway?"

"He wanted to know how I'm doing."

"And?"

He shrugged. "I told him I'm doing OK. I am, you know," he added, noticing Poland's look of suspicion.

After another few seconds of intense staring, Poland took him at his word. He threw an arm around his friend and smiled.

"In that case, I'm fine, too." Now it was Lithuania's turn to look suspicious. "What? I am." The scowl deepened. "Come on, have I ever lied to you?"

_That _got the smile.

* * *

**A few things:**

**- No, I couldn't resist the urge to add some lightness and bring America back.**

**- Yes, I know that this is the first split scene I've done in awhile. I just couldn't stretch the meeting much further.**

**- No, I'm not proud of my French. If anyone can correct me, please do.**


	18. Implication

The swiveling desk chair was almost a decade old, but it always looked brand new. For the first month that he'd lived with Sweden, Finland had caught himself checking the furniture for tags. It was really unbelievable how _neat _everything was. He had eventually learned that the shine came from careful, methodical cleaning, performed with a steady hand and an unwavering stare. _('Don't think about his stare. It'll just make you nervous.') _

The chair had its back to him, turned towards their sleek (if somewhat slow) computer. Even though he could see the mouse moving on the screen and the large legs under the desk, Finland felt the irrational urge to make sure Sweden was there before speaking. (After the last time, he'd realized that he had a tendency to take his partner's presence for granted.) Trying not to think about how ridiculous he looked, he went up on his toes and craned his neck. Reassured that the large, silent nation was somberly checking posts on Facebook, he cleared his throat.

"Uh, Sweden?" The other didn't turn around. "I-I know that I was a bit… weird with you about the whole Russia thing. I'm sorry, by the way. I should've told you about that sooner. I just didn't want to make a thing of it, you know?"

The mouse paused on the screen. _'I really don't give him enough credit,' _thought Finland._ 'He is responsive.'_

"Anyway," he continued. "If you really want me to go into detail about it, I will. I completely get why you'd be mad at me, and how I was holding out on you, and I'll never do it again. I-I just don't want you to be angry. Sealand doesn't need to see you angry, after all, and – that was a stupid reason. _I _don't want to upset you, and if there's anything I can do to make it better, I –"

Sweden turned around. His expression was as formidable and unreadable as ever. As a result, Finland was somewhat surprised when he beckoned.

"C'mere." Finland stared at him in shock, not moving. "C'mon. Don't worry." He tapped his lap, as if calling a skittish cat. Finland edged over to him, hesitantly at first, then faster. After the interminable 20-second journey, he paused in front of the chair, unsure of how to proceed.

Sweden _('Abashedly?') _gestured to Finland's arm. After a confused moment, he reached forward and gently grasped the wrist. Finland managed to control his initial urge to shudder, but a slight grimace managed to break through his calm façade. A flicker of Sweden's mostly-lowered eyelids was enough to assure Finland that he had seen. Accordingly, he mumbled what might have been a question before trying to roll up the sleeve. Finland produced a convincing murmur of assent.

For some reason, the slowness with which Sweden drew up the sleeve irritated him. _'Really, I said it was OK. He should hurry it up!' _About halfway up his forearm, there was a slight snag. Trying not to roll his eyes, Finland reached down and yanked the sleeve the rest of the way up.  
There weren't half so many as Estonia had. They both knew that. There were, however, enough to be surprising, given that he'd been mostly autonomous.

"Russia was at his height then," he muttered apologetically, "but he was starting to have problems. No one in power took the Communists seriously then, but they were starting to gain traction. Besides, there were problems of agricultural production, the growing influence of the West, the wars…" He trailed off, wishing somehow that he could make an awkward, useless gesture with the hand Sweden was still holding. "He relied on those he controlled," he finished.

Sweden's mostly impenetrable gaze had a hint of skepticism in it. "You don't think it was your fault," he said calmly. It was phrased as a statement, but the context made Finland wonder if it wasn't a question. Seeing that Sweden wasn't going to say anything else, he decided to take it as such.

"Of course I don't. I mean, there are some things you have to expect as a conquered territory, but – but I don't think that this falls under that."

"No. No it doesn't." While it was as quiet and apparently emotionless as ever, Sweden's voice carried a strange intensity. He was still looking at the scarred wrist, running his fingers over the marks.

"Y-you know," Finland said much too loudly, "you've seen these before. I know you have. Y-you just didn't know where they were from." He giggled nervously, realizing too late that such a gesture could only thicken the tension. "It's not like this has never happened to you."

"Occupation. Not abuse." His tone was clinical now, and Finland had the odd sensation that he was about to get out a jar of lollipops and a prescription pad. He was so calm, in fact, that the last word almost escaped his listener's notice. When he realized what Sweden had said, he froze.

"I wouldn't call it abuse."

"I would." He looked up at Finland, scrutinizing the smaller nation carefully. One silent question and answer later, Sweden was reaching up to touch his cheek. With a suddenness that surprised them both, he drew back. "Does Estonia –"

"He knows I belonged to Russia. That's all he needs to know," he added.

"Because he understands?"

"… He understands as much as he needs to. He can probably guess more than that, but we've never really talked about it." He drew his arm away and quickly lowered the sleeve. He folded his hands in front of his stomach, but the apparent humility of the gesture contrasted oddly with the proud set of his shoulders and defiant expression.

"Is there anything else?" he asked. Even as he said it, he started to back away. He'd only made it about a foot when he saw Sweden mumble something, forcing him to halt. "Yes?"

"Those scars looked new." He was still looking at his hand as if he could still see Finland's wrist in it.

"Th-they didn't heal well."

"Oh." Finland made it another step. "They haven't been reopened."

"N-no. Who would do something like that?"

He closed the door before Sweden could think of an answer.


	19. Distraction

"Prussia? You're comparing me to _Prussia? _Do you have any idea how lame Prussia is?"

Estonia resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He contented himself with an apology for mentioning the subject before letting it die. He didn't particularly want to offend his friend.

He didn't like Denmark, but truthfully, he was thankful for the time away from the other Nordic nations. Recently, Sweden had become even more distant than usual, and even Finland was growing nervous and taciturn. Iceland and Norway were difficult to read in the best of circumstances. If Denmark was nothing else, he was a relaxing, comfortable, readable person with whom one could spend a day.

"Hey!" Denmark's voice roused him from his thoughts. "Are you gonna bowl or not?"

_'OK, he probably won't notice if I roll my eyes this time.' _Fortunately, Denmark was far too focused on the ball to notice his expression. With a scarcely audible sigh, he clumsily aimed the cricket ball at the wicket. Denmark had no trouble hitting it back, and Estonia was hard-pressed to avoid being hit.

"You know," he said irritably, "this is really England's game."

"You're just mad because you can't play."

"Oh, next Olympics you are _so _going to –"

"Yeah, right. You don't stand a chance."

Both knew full well that they were only kidding, and at the "argument's" first lull, Denmark cheerfully ran to get the ball. He was picking at it as he returned, and it took Estonia a minute to realize that it was covered in cobwebs.

"Don't worry. I'll do that." He took the ball and instantly regretted his decision. _'Oh, great. How the hell do you get webs out of wool? It'll probably pull a clump of yarn out.' _Regardless, he smiled politely as Denmark patiently regained his position at his end of the pitch.

As he gave up on the web and prepared to bowl, Estonia considered how strange that patience was. _'I haven't seen Denmark do anything patiently since… wait, I don't think he was a country then. Hmm.' _Thanks to his distraction, the ball went wide, and out of a sense of reciprocity, he jogged over to get it.

"Sorry. I'm a bit distracted."

"No probs." _'OK, that tears it. Normally he wouldn't shut up about something like that for hours. I even admitted it. What's going on?'_

He didn't have much time to think about it, though. The urge to make a decent showing overpowered the vague concern, and then adrenaline overpowered the urge to make a decent showing. Thirty minutes later, both nations were panting from the exertion. Denmark, poorly trying to cover his ragged breathing, suggested ice cream. The offer was impossible to resist, and after a mercifully short debate about who would pay (as neither felt up to anything longer), they agreed to meet at a small shop on the corner.

It was one of those places off the beaten track that locals in a small town call "the best ice cream ever" and tourists call "dirty and expensive." Neither of them really minded the dirt, and they'd both heard that the homemade flavors were worth the expense. Estonia saved a small booth; then watched in horror as Denmark bit the bottom off of his cone and proceeded to suck the ice cream out through the base.

"That's a really disgusting way to –"

"I know. Heard it all from Norway. 'That's gross. Don't do it in public. What if someone sees you? You're –' Hang on, it's dripping."

They both ate in silence for a few minutes. Estonia did his best to ignore his companion's smirk when he managed to drip ice cream onto _his _shirt. _'That's it. I'm having all my clothes dry-cleaned __**today**__.' _

"So," slurped Denmark, "what should we do next?"

"Well… I've heard that the National Museum –"

"Boring."

"The Rosenburg –"

"Yawn."

"They're _your _landmarks. How could you possibly find them boring?"

"I dunno." He shrugged. "Do you find all of your stuff interesting?"

"Well, not so much anymore, but that's beside the point. Why don't you suggest something, if you're such an expert."

"How about the Oresund Bridge?"

It took a moment for that one to sink in. "Oh, very funny. Sweden's spending the day with Finland, remember?"

"Yeah. What's up with them, anyway?"

"None of my business." _'I hope not, anyway.' _"Come on, make a serious suggestion."

"OK. Have you gone to any of the big churches or cathedrals?"

"How could you – wait, that was an actual suggestion. Um… no, I haven't been. Are there any in particular I should see?"

"Oh, plenty. Lemme think… the closest good one is only about five miles away." He vaulted to his feet. "Come on, let's go."

"I still haven't finished my ice cream."

"And you think the way _I _eat is crazy."

They had both almost reached the car when Estonia remembered his earlier question. "Hey, wait. You've been acting weird all day."

"Weird how?"

He ticked the reasons off on his fingers as he spoke. "You're not arguing with me as much. You're being all considerate and friendly. I just saw you pay for food for both of us without trying to guilt me into going Dutch treat."

"You know the Netherlands wouldn't be happy with that."

"Quit distracting me! Seriously, what's up? Is there something going on I should know about?"

"There's nothing going on."

"You're a terrible liar."

"Please, I'm a great liar."

"So you admit you're lying?"

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm – look, promise you won't get mad, OK?" Estonia eyed him critically; then gave a short nod. "OK, then.

The thing is, Sweden and Finland are kind of worried about you. They wanted you out of the house for a while so they could talk about something. They've been acting kind of weird latterly… Anyway, I figured you could use the distraction, and the last thing you needed was a bunch of arguing." He paused to allow Estonia to absorb the information. "Want me to take you to the airport?"

"Yeah, sure." There was an odd expression on his face. "Hang on a sec. Could you come around here and check this door before we get in? I heard air through it earlier."

When Denmark came around to look, Estonia punched him in the face. Hard.

"What was that for?" the Nordic snapped.

"Don't treat me like a child." Estonia quietly pulled him to his feet, and they set off for the airport in silence.


	20. Outburst

Latvia was nervous. Unusually so, even for him. He tightly clutched the bundle of official papers to his tiny chest and took deep, calming breaths. He wryly wondered whether he'd ever be able to shake his reputation as a trembling child.

'_Trade agreements. Just focus on the trade agreements.'_

He knew full well that Germany was difficult to deal with on the best of days, and there was no guarantee that this was anything close. He could've just had another argument with Austria, or attended one of America's 60-years-too-late anti-Nazi films, or eaten England's food, or realized that Italy wasn't really attending secret strategy meetings in his own country _('And they say I'm naïve')_, or – or –

'… _He could've just spoken with Prussia.'_

To Latvia, it seemed almost certain that Germany would blame him for the events of his recent session. To say he was dreading the prospect of finding out would have been a severe understatement. As a result, he had done a surprisingly complete job of avoiding both brothers. His small size made it easy, and Prussia was nothing if not obliging. "West," on the other hand, was growing increasingly insistent on conversation. Latvia could only assume that (as of their last meeting) Prussia hadn't told him anything. Otherwise, Germany would've been cold instead of perplexed. Nevertheless, any day could be the one he found out, if not through Prussia then through Austria. _'After all, Prussia is a patient, and Germany has a right to know some stuff.' _He spared a brief moment to appreciate that no one was entitled to know his "stuff."

'_Of course, Austria has to tell me if he's going to tell Germany anything. Wait, does he? Why didn't I read the stupid Hippocratic Oath? It'd make this way easier._

_Whatever. I need to get him to sign this paperwork. That's all. Then I can leave. Wait, is that Prussia's car in his – no, it's his car. What was I thinking? Keep it together. Just get in and get out. In and out.' _

He half-hoped that Germany would've forgotten their meeting and left the house. Germany being Germany, he had no such luck. The promptness with which he answered the smaller nation's first knock was startling, but Latvia hid his shock well (or so he told himself).

'_This must be how Austria feels when I shout at him.' _Germany was still looking at him expectantly. _'Oh, right. Business.'_

He thrust out a hand, remembering at the last moment to shift the papers in his arms. "Germany," he said mechanically. "It's nice to see you. It seems like we never hang out anymore."

"You don't say." Fortunately, he didn't press the issue, and after a single irritated grunt, he drew back to allow Latvia to enter. Unwilling to try the other's patience, Latvia hurried past. _('I probably look like some schoolboy late to class,' _he inwardly muttered.)

Germany ponderously closed the door, and after taking a moment to absentmindedly watch Latvia's progress into the sitting room, quietly proceeded to get coffee.

When the beige liquid came to the table, Latvia almost sighed aloud with relief. A quick glance at Germany's knowing half-smile told him that he'd been spotted.

"You're getting sick of tea." The confirmation brought a reluctant smile to his face. "I visit Austria a lot," Germany added by dint of explanation.

"Thanks. I appreciate it." He took a sip, careful to avoid burning his tongue. "Does this have… milk in it?"

"Cream. It's how America drinks it, and I figured he'd know." There was something unsettled in Germany's bearing as he rose to get the sugar. His hands weren't shaking, exactly, but there was an odd jerkiness in his movements. And how, exactly, had he forgotten to get the sugar? He wasn't usually spacey.

"Um, we only have powdered sugar. Is that alright?" he asked from the sideboard. That's when Latvia knew:

_ 'Prussia told him everything.'_

"Uh, no. That's fine," he stuttered. Germany nodded curtly and brought the white powder back to his guest. Neither made eye contact for a few minutes.

"So… trade agreements?"

"Yes. Trade agreements. I… believe that these terms will be amenable to you. All but the last are subject to negotiation."

"Why not the last?" He took the paper, not really registering it or his comment.

"My current boss campaigned on it." He shrugged apologetically. "There's nothing I can do to change his mind."

To Latvia it seemed as though they were only puppets on strings, acting out their polite diplomatic lines. Germany looked up at him, and he could almost see the minute tug that proceeded the jerky motion. Wooden eyes bore into his.

He was talking. When had that started? "… and if we lower the tariff on electronics, we can –"

"I see, I see." Germany's voice box was primitive. It only had a couple of phrases, and none of them meant anything without real context. They were both simply hanging there, each waiting for the other to say something.

Germany was looking at him oddly. It took him a moment to realize that he'd trailed off.

"Sorry, I must've drifted. What was I saying?"

"Are you alright?" The nod he got in response was purely situational, making it anything but reassuring. "Perhaps we should take a break, or if you like, we can continue tomorrow." The smaller country didn't reply, but with a shock, Germany could notice that his eyes were beginning to show traces of tears. "Latvia?"

"I'm sorry about what happened with Prussia, OK?"

"… What?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen, and even though it was my fault, I want to say that I didn't like it and I didn't do it on purpose, and it'll never happen again. I – I didn't know he was there. I didn't! I just don't want you to hate me for it, but you do, don't you? I'll bet Prussia told you some made-up version where I did something worse than I did. You can't believe everything you hear, you know. And you don't need to get all formal and – and quiet because you're angry. You didn't even get my side of the story! You didn't even check, did you? T-trust you to just decide not to trust me! I've been worrying about this since it happened. D-don't try to think that I'm not sorry. I just don't think it was _all _my fault, is all." He waited a second. "Well?"

Germany's mouth was hanging open slightly. He still seemed dazed as he replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"… What," he said flatly.

"I haven't heard anything about this. What's going on?"

"You're not kidding, are you?" The expectant pause was all he needed to confirm it. "God, you don't know, and I just – I mean, I… I should go."

Barely noticing what he was doing, he hurriedly snatched up the papers and ran out.


	21. Chess

Over the next few weeks, both Estonia and Finland had the same sensation of being watched. It seemed as though Sweden had somehow subdivided into two people, both of whom were always around to keep an eye on things. (Of course, given how much time Sweden usually spent working alone, it wasn't particularly hard for him to double his presence.) One moment he was "casually" mentioning Denmark and watching Estonia's face; the next, he was rummaging through the bathroom for "toothpaste." Both were left with the impression that he was only watching _one _of them, and paranoia made it clear to both which one it was. As a result, they preferred to seek safety in numbers, failing to notice the necessary split in Sweden's attention that would result from avoiding each other.

"Ha! Checkmate. I win again." Estonia triumphantly added another short stroke to the score sheet. (He'd started with long ones, but it'd been clear that they weren't going to fit.) "What's that, 50-something games in a row?"

"Yeah." Finland glanced at the hallway, where Sweden had been straightening a painting for the last half hour. _('Can't he just switch to something in here? At least then I wouldn't have to crane my neck. No, focus on Estonia. He'll get suspicious.') _"How'd you get so good at chess, anyway?"

"Oh, Lithuania liked it a lot, and Latvia never had the patience to play with him." He shrugged. "I'm not crazy about it, but it passed the time." _('He's still watching me, isn't he? Finland probably only asked to – no, he wouldn't do that. If only I could just turn around and, and say… Just don't say anything stupid.') _

"What about Russia?" _('Gah! Moron, quit bringing up Russia.')_

"Oh, he liked playing. He was just kind of a sore loser." _('That counts as stupid.') _"I mean, not to say that he was mean when he lost. He just… didn't like losing, is all."

"Yeah." Sweden's position hadn't changed, but Finland thought he could detect a slight stiffening of his shoulders. "I know what you mean." _('Why would I even say something like that?') _"Anyway, want to play again?" Without waiting for his friend to answer, he started setting out the board, trying to ignore how strained his smile felt.

"Sure, why not?" He moved his first pawn, eyes straining desperately to look out of the back of his head. He could feel his attention slipping out into the hallway behind him, and he could think of only one conversation that would root it in the game. "So how'd you learn to play?"

"Oh, here and there. I played with a lot of different people when I was younger, and I still keep it up every now and then. England and France are both fair players, and they both like to compete."

"Ever play with Russia?" It was like a scab: even knowing it would hurt to pick at it, he was driven by an odd fascination.

"…Yes. Quite often, actually, when I worked for him. He had other servants, but he liked to play with as many different people as possible."

"Like you."

"I –I suppose you could say that." He awkwardly nudged a rook past his now undefended queen.

"You and Sweden play a lot?"

"Not really. We're both kind of busy." Neither dared look, and the odds that Sweden had actually turned around were low, but it suddenly felt as though he was staring directly at them. "I've been trying to teach Sealand, but he doesn't have the head for it."

"That kind of thing can be learned, can't it?"

"I suppose, but it's too much effort for most people to bother." He noticed an opportunity to take his opponent's bishop, and it wasn't until after the piece was at his side that he recognized the trap. His face a picture of glum neutrality, he watched three pieces fall in quick succession. Two moves later, his king was cornered.

He didn't know whether it was the irritation of losing again, frustration with the suspense, or something else entirely, but he looked up clearly at Sweden.

"Sweden, how long have you been there?" he asked cheerfully. The strong offensive seemed to have worked: Sweden seemed momentarily nonplussed.

"I'm fixing this picture. It's crooked."

"Still? Maybe we need a new hanging system."

"Maybe."

"In the meantime, how about taking a break and joining us? I know Estonia could use a better opponent than me."

"Sure." He firmly marched into the room and sat on the floor beside Finland. "You want to watch."

"Of course. Let me get a drink first, though. I'm parched." Sweden's only response was an acquiescing grunt.

_ 'Ha! I'm out.' _Resisting the urge to laugh at the sudden feeling of relief, he headed to the kitchen.

It wasn't until he'd started to pour himself something (having ignored labels in his relaxed state) that it occurred to him what being alone _meant. _Of course, it'd be risky, especially with the others only a room away, and he'd have to be careful about stains. But it was possible.

They had a butcher's block of knives as new-looking and spotless as anything else in the house. (Why they owned fourteen different kinds of knives when he'd only seen Sweden use three was anyone's guess.) He spared a thought to the possibility that Sweden could notice any stain, however microscopic, but dismissed it instantly. After all, that wouldn't explain why it hadn't been mentioned before now.

People always seemed to assume that the largest knife was the most tempting. In reality, it was the slim cleaner knife that caught his eye. It had an interesting curve in its tip that, as well as its cutting ability, provided an obstacle for juices running down to the handle. It wasn't annoyingly heavy, and it would be easy to control.

"Hey, Finland, where are you?" It was Estonia. "You gotten the drink yet?"

"Oh, yeah. Coming!" He grabbed the glass, still only filled halfway, and dashed back into the living room. _('I'll have to clean up those spills in the hall later.') _He was panting slightly when he entered.

Both other nations looked up from their game, expressions shifting quickly from mild surprise to shock. _('Should've walked normally. This just makes me look weirder.')_ "Sorry it took me so long. I was just…" He trailed off, realizing that they were staring at the hand that _wasn't _holding the glass.

He was still holding the knife.

"Sit down," said Sweden ominously, "and give me that." Finland numbly handed it over and slowly seated himself. Sweden placed it as far from both of them as possible. He knew that when Sweden rolled up his sleeves, there wouldn't be any new scars, but it didn't matter. There was nothing in the kitchen to suggest any kind of food preparation, any kind of difficulty in opening bottles, anything other than the truth.

Sweden quietly finished his inspection and turned back to the game. Without taking his eyes off the board, Sweden reached up and stroked Finland's neck.

"Just relax," he muttered. "We'll talk about this later."


	22. Drinking

"What the _hell _did you tell Germany?"

"Nothing! I – wait, how did this get back to me? And why aren't you looking at the road?" Prussia held his gaze for another few seconds, more to make his point than anything else, before slowly turning back to focus on driving. Latvia's scowl deepened. _'Honestly, these roads are dangerous enough with a competent driver. He – not the issue. Focus.' _"You know, if you'd told him, this wouldn't be a problem."

"And if you'd asked me, you wouldn't have told him." He clutched the steering wheel tightly, as if it would try to tear itself from his hands and run. "You know how hard it is to avoid him? He's as fast as I am, and he's all quiet and sneaky… Did I ever tell you about the time when – "

"Yes. You're talking about the time he impersonated an American, right?"

"It's still an awesome story." Sarcasm aside, Prussia couldn't help but smirk at the memory.

"You tell it too often, especially at parties."

"Whatever. Anyway, we need to focus here."

"Fine. What do we do?"

"Avoid Germany."

"For how long?"

"I dunno. Maybe a couple hundred years."

"Yeah, sure. _That'll _work." The eye roll felt a bit overblown, but the temptation was irresistible. The car's sharp swerve at the next intersection was enough to make him regret it.

"Well, what's your plan, then? Tell Austria?"

"He'll find out anyway."

"That's what you thought about Germany. The fact is, we don't know and can't know who knows what, you know?"

"Um… yes. But think of it like this: Austria already knows the worst part, so how bad could telling him be? I mean, what's the worst he can do, bring Germany in to talk with us about – dear God, that is the worst thing he can do."

"Can and will." He took one hand off of the wheel and rested it on the back of the headrest, slowly and nonchalantly swinging the wheel in a wide arc. "Could you move your head? I'm trying to park."

"What, not going to find a wall to crash into?"

"Hey, my driving skills are – "

" – 'awesome,' I know. Could we just focus on surviving the next ten seconds, and possibly the next meeting with Germany?"

"Germany's a lost cause. The best we can do is avoid him until he calms down." He finished parking, and there was a brief silence as both nations unbuckled their seatbelts and exited separate doors. They were three blocks away from the bar where they'd agreed to 'meet.' After a few moments of brisk walking, Prussia abruptly stopped. "Wait, how much did you tell him, anyway?"

"Mostly that I'd done something, that it was totally my fault, and that – "

"But you didn't tell him exactly what happened, right?"

"Of course not. I thought he knew already. Why would I tell him something he already knew?"

A wide grin was spreading across Prussia's face. "No, no, that makes sense… Come on, we'll be late." He started again, practically running in his excitement. Latvia dashed after him, struggling to keep up on tiny legs.

"Hey, wait up! Why do you look so happy? We don't have anything to be late _for_. That's why we picked a bar in the first place."

Prussia slackened his pace slightly, but his eyes remained straight ahead. "What if he still doesn't know?" he asked breathlessly.

"That's ridiculous. Of course he knows. I'm sure of it… now." Prussia slowed down and turned enough for a raised eyebrow to become apparent. "Look, I'll admit that I made a mistake, but he knows now, and all we can do is – "

"Yeah, but what if he doesn't?" He stopped altogether and moved closer, his hands twitching with the desire to grab the smaller nation by the shoulders and shake him. "Look, hear me out on this. You told him something happened, right?"

"Right," he muttered.

"And he knows we both talk to Austria, right?"

"Right," he repeated slowly.

"So the first thing he's going to do is go to Austria for details, right?"

"Of course. That's how we know he knows."

"But isn't all of that stuff confidential?"

Latvia would've replied, but his mouth was hanging open too far to form coherent syllables. After a few moments of watching him gape, Prussia spun on his heel and continued towards the bar. Another moment of slack-jawed staring later, Latvia followed.

The inside of the establishment was all that it's outside promised: dingy, crude, and packed enough to be discreet. They found a relatively clean booth and Prussia ordered drinks, taking a muted nod from his companion as acquiescence. They had both received menus before either spoke again.

"D-do you really think that that's possible?"

Prussia peered over a page of dubiously limited specials. "Yeah. It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"B-but you and Germany are family. Doesn't that mean – "

"Nothing. I still have rights to privacy and stuff. Besides, this involves you, too."

"But what if it sounds like I've given Germany permission to find out by telling him?"

"That'd depend on what he and Austria said to each other. The only person who'd know what it counts as would be Austria." They both sipped their drinks for awhile longer, then lowered them as one.

"We need to get to a phone." It didn't really matter which of them had said it, just as it didn't matter which of them raced to his feet and got permission to use the phone behind the bar. (The bartender eyed him with a peculiar mixture of suspicion, resentment, and disinterested curiosity that he did his best to ignore.)

"Hey, Austria? Yeah, I was wondering… Yes, it is about that. I was wondering if… Really? OK, thanks for telling me. I've gotta go." He triumphantly hung up and turned to the other.

"Well?" The question was more hopeful than expectant.

"He told him everything," he replied, cheerful attitude still in place. Then his smile faltered. "What the hell are we gonna do now?"

"I guess we're back to avoiding them both."

"… Yeah." He turned to the bartender. "Hey, we'll have two of whatever your strongest drink is."

"Sure thing. I'll bring 'em over in a minute."

"Thanks." They both walked slowly back to the booth, neither trying to make eye contact.


	23. Fitting

"You were right. The red looks good."

"Gah ew kie eh," mumbled Poland through a mouthful of pins. He quickly affixed a fold to the bottom and spat them into hit palm. "Glad you like it," he repeated. "I'm not sure about the pleating, though…"

Lithuania briefly considered a polite compliment, but decided an honest answer would be better. He inspected what parts of the bottom he could see past Poland's body and the dress' incompleteness. "They're… alright," he conceded, "although it'll be hard to tell before it's done. They seem a bit close together. Are they supposed to be?"

"Oh, yeah, sure they are." Poland was slipping back into dressmaker mode, dropping his idle chitchat in favor of brief, straightforward sentences and soundless work. (Although Lithuania wouldn't tell him, it was preferable to his usual prattle.)

Allowing the other to lapse back into focused silence, Lithuania took a moment to survey the room (again). A full-length mirror blocked his view to the left, but he could still glimpse a pale wooden door lightly decorated with a leaf pattern. Directly in front of him was a depressingly uninteresting wall improved only by a small sideboard. (The sideboard's contents made him wish that he could move. A few minutes would allow him to clear out most of the clutter.) The right held that sofa, chair, and coffee table pattern found in small houses around the world. Its personal touches were hardly worth noting (although he couldn't help but twitch at the pink, embroidered pillows perched on the couch). Although any attempt to turn was met by a threat to jab him with a pin, he knew full well that there was a television and a glass door to the backyard (presumably placed so that the glare would make it impossible to watch television during the day). All in all, it was a friendly, warm room, heated both by the midday sun and the relaxed mood of the moment.

Why, then, did he feel a chill?

_"Lietuva, my little friend. You don't need to worry. Why are you so afraid?" His hands were on the smaller nation's legs. It seemed as though the rubbing was producing sparks; thin, smoky tendrils of fear that rose to his face and threatened to choke him._

_ "You didn't answer me. Perhaps you didn't hear me, da?" A sharp prick from a fingernail, digging firmly into his thigh. He gasped, but the nail remained in his leg until it was saturated with blood. Russia drew it away, ignoring the small, nascent bruise surrounding the wound._

_ "I'm n-not af-afraid, M-Mr. Russia," he managed. "Y-you're v-very – "_

_ "Very what?" Just like that, his words dried up. He tried to talk, over and over, but he couldn't. He simply choked on the words as the smoke got higher and higher. Suddenly, the knife was there, in Russia's hand, and he was going to hurt him…_

"Ow!"

Poland snapped to attention. "What? Are you OK? Did I, like, poke you? Oh, sorry, I like, totally didn't mean to." He quickly flipped up the area of cloth he'd been working on. "It's bleeding, too. I'm so sorry. Look, could you hold this up while I get a Band-Aid or something? I know it's red, but blood'll show up on it… Lietuva? Are you OK?" He tapped Lithuania's leg, trying to get his attention.

Without another word, Lithuania turned and ran. He couldn't focus on where he was going, barely noticing as pin after pin popped out of the dress, leaving a trail of red strips of cloth behind him.

Poland stared after him in shock, mouth hanging open. _'What the… I'm going to have to redo all of that once I find him. Once I find him – what happened? I thought he was getting better.' _He pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the slight ache in his lower legs, and followed the trail.

The trail ran out on the second floor. He checked the bathroom first, but the door wasn't locked and there was no sign of occupation. Lithuania's room… empty, as was the linen closet. That only left his room. He was considering going back downstairs in case the fugitive had doubled back to the kitchen when he heard breathing.

The entire room was pink (where it wasn't purple). Lithuania was crouched in the back, behind the bed, and it was clear from the sound he was making and the way he clutched his chest that he was hyperventilating. Poland paused in the door for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. He settled for knocking against the open door.

"Um, hi." He rubbed his neck. "Can I come in?" Lithuania managed a short nod, sans eye contact. He walked in and gently shut the door. _'Why did I do that? Who's going to come in?' _He took a seat next to Lithuania against the wall, careful to maintain a couple of feet of distance.

"I've heard that it helps to put your head between your legs," he offered awkwardly. _'God, I hope that didn't sound as bad as I think it did.' _He was surprised when Lithuania merely nodded and complied, his expression neutral if not thankful. Poland wanted to stretch out a hand and stroke his back, but the gesture's reception seemed doubtful. Quick, gasping pants evened out into gentle, regular breaths over the course of the next few minutes. Still keeping his head between his knees, Lithuania glanced over at Poland, who was obviously trying not to stare.

"Well?" he whispered.

"Well what?"

Lithuania chuckled humorlessly. "You know what. What are you thinking right now?"

Poland turned to face him fully, inspecting him as he'd inspected the dress. "This has happened before?"

"Yes."

"How many times?"

"Don't remember."

"Any idea what caused it?"

"… Yes."

He waited for another minute. "And?" The silence continued. "It was me, wasn't it?"

"Yes, but not like you think."

"Well, that's just great." Poland slapped his leg: a hard, jolting sound devoid of casual connotations. "You know, I was starting to, like, think you were past this." A voice at the back of his head told him to leave it alone, to not upset Lithuania. He ignored it. "And now I find out that you're still scared of me, _and _you, like, keep secrets from me!"

"I-I told you." Lithuania's voice was still quiet, but it had grown hard. "It's not like that."

"Then what is it like? You're not scared of me? I don't remind you of Russia? What is it?"

"You were touching me." He hated how pathetic it sounded, and he hated it more when Poland suddenly stilled, his anger vanishing.

"He didn't – "

"Not like that, no," he appended hastily. He slowly raised his head from his arms. "He didn't care about that. It wasn't any different, though. At least, it didn't feel different."

"… What made you freak out?"

"One time, he was… his hands were… It wasn't anything like that, OK?" Poland shrugged, but it seemed less a show of indifference than a defeated slump. "Anyway, he was sort of touching my l-legs, a-and…" He took a breath. "He sort of cut me. With his nails at first, and then with a knife." He clutched his chest, hearing rather than feeling the rise in blood pressure. "I-it was sharp, a-and while I didn't think of it t-too much while you were just f-fitting me –"

" – I jabbed you with a pin by mistake," Poland finished glumly. He drew his knees close to his chest, staring down at toes covered in nail polish. Lithuania followed his gaze.

"That shade suits you." Poland looked up questioningly. "The nail polish, I mean."

"Oh, thanks." He kept staring at his feet, moving them back and forth as if for inspection. "Lietuva?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have these… flashbacks often?"

He paused to consider. "Less often than before, and they're not normally this bad."

"'Kay. So… do you think you could, I don't know, tell me next time?" There was no inflection, yet Lithuania thought he could hear a note of reproach.

"I guess so."

"'Cause I want to know what's happening, you know? All of it."

"OK. I-I'll tell you."

Poland nodded quietly, allowing a small smile to flit across his face. "Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe?"

"… Just a small glass. We have to get back to fitting, right?"

"Are you sure you can – " He got a look at Lithuania's face. "Alright." The smile came back, widening. "I'll get you some water, and while you're drinking it, I'll go get the pleats and stuff you dropped."

"Sounds great. Just make sure you get all the pins. I don't want to be stepping on them for the next two weeks."

"We'll see." Poland grinned mischievously and left, practically skipping to the landing.

Lithuania _really _wished he could say he didn't smirk when Poland stepped on a pin three seconds later, but he would've been lying.


	24. Inscrutable

Austria's expression was emotionless, almost bored. He casually reached up to adjust his glasses. When his hand reached the bridge, he noticed a smudge. A moment later, he had set his pad aside to gently blow on the lens and clean it with his white shirt. He frowned, inspecting the result carefully. He held the glasses up to the light, squinting slightly to make out the delicate pattern of old scratches and new smudges. He slowly replaced them, adjusting first the bridge, then the temples. A thoughtless press of his finger to the right lens to affix it more clearly undid the greater part of his work, but he didn't seem to notice.

Sweden couldn't help but marvel at the sheer coldness, the sheer _audacity_ of it. He was surprised that a sensitive man like Austria could be relaxed in the presence of someone as obviously distraught as he was. He'd been _crying _when he came in. (Actually, Austria had noticed a couple of tears in his eyes and assumed that they were watering. Still, it'd been rather rude of him not to offer a handkerchief.)

"How long has this been going on?"

"Dunno." He paused to think about it. "There were scars on his arms. Reopened."

"When did you see them?"

"Month ago. Maybe two."

"I see." He took a note: small, meticulous. "And you wanted to tell me something else…?"

_ 'We're done with Finland already? Doesn't this matter to him? He's probably thinking that he'll be late to something.' _"Yeah. Punched Denmark."

"Did he give any reason?"

_'Doing your job for you, am I? You're not being rational, Sweden. Just talk.' _"Said he didn't wanna be treated like a child." Austria made a circular gesture, suggesting wordlessly that he go on. _'Is he always so impatient? No wonder Estonia doesn't like him.' _"Denmark'd taken him out so Finny – _Finland _and I could talk."

"And he saw this as a sign of disrespect on your part?"

_'Weren't you listening, you moron?' _"Yes."

"I take it that you don't see it that way?"

"What d'ya mean?"

He shrugged. _'Indifferent.' _"You see this as a serious problem." He turned back to his pad. "Also, if you don't mind my saying it, you seem rather tense."

_'Tone. Control your tone.' _"I'm not tense."

"Really?" _'Smug.' _"My mistake." He scribbled a quick note. _'Clinical.' _He tapped his pencil for a couple of seconds before remembering his guest. _'Casual.' _He looked up. "Anyway, you're clearly more concerned about Finland."

_'Like he cares.' _"Yeah." _'This is what I'm here for. Might as well tell him, even if he doesn't care. Even __**though **__he doesn't care.' _"Can't keep an eye on him all the time. Gets away for a second and does it again."

"Who's with him now?"

"Iceland, Norway, Denmark." He shrugged. "Estonia."

"Is Sealand there?"

"Yeah." _'Should let him live with the others for a while. Might be good for him.' _"They can watch 'em both."

"Not Estonia?"

_'Now he pays attention.' _"Estonia won't hurt himself." His eyes suddenly began to itch. He absentmindedly rubbed them.

"Do you think Finland will?" _'Wait, no. He's still ignoring me.' _"If he cares about you, - " In his fury, Sweden missed the rest. _'"If?" "If?!" Of course he cares. Stupid shrink, making stuff up so I won't notice. That bastard, daring to suggest that I – '_

"Sweden!" _'Oh, sure. I have to pay attention to him.' _

"Yeah?"

"What did I just say?" _'What am I, 100?' _

"Dunno," he replied dully. Any attempt to inject emotion would only have made his anger apparent.

"I said that Finland probably doesn't want to scare you, and he doesn't want you to have to worry." _'Wait, what?' _"While I doubt it will help him much in the long run, it should prevent him from trying anything at the moment."

"Oh."

"Incidentally, I think you should pay more attention to these conversations. They're important for both of you, and if you want to provide any real support…" He paused, studying Sweden strangely. "You don't talk much."

Sweden waited a moment to see if he would continue. "No."

"As clichéd as this sounds, 'Penny for your thoughts?'"

A second passed. Another. Then another. Slowly, like a faucet turned on by a careful and curious child, the drops of time became a steady stream as the seconds blended together.

Sweden scarcely noticed, so lost in thought was he. _'He wants me to say what I'm thinking. What am I thinking? Finland needs to do something, get help, whatever. How do we do that? Austria seems like the only option, but maybe I could talk to… who'd I be talking to? What'd he mean by "If?" No, ignore that.' _After a few minutes, he looked up to see Austria taking notes (or drawing) in his notepad.

"Dunno," he said aloud. Austria looked up, a flash of genuine surprise quickly replaced by clinical expressionlessness. "I've got a lot of questions, and I don't know where to go to answer 'em."

"Well, I'll see if I can answer some of them for you." A comfortable, reassuring smile flitted about for a moment on Austria's face before settling in to stay. "Would you like for me to get you something?"

"Nah, but can I call Norway? I need to tell him I'll be longer than I thought."

"Of course. The phone's in the study. I'll show you." He gracefully rose to his feet, taking a moment to close his pad and put it in his jacket pocket. _'At least he keeps it safe.' _Sweden watched him cross the room, forgetting until he turned back and beckoned why he'd gotten up. Sweden abashedly rose and followed, doing his best not to cry. (If he knew how difficult it was to tell he was worried, he wouldn't have bothered to suppress the impulse.)

Following Austria into the study, he couldn't help but marvel at the "aristocrat's" calm. The nation walked with a light, almost bouncing step. His arms were at his sides, but their slight sway that he wasn't consciously holding them in place. _'Not bad in a therapist, I guess. Makes him easier to deal with. After all, who'd want a crazy shrink?'_

Austria was perfectly composed, perfectly relaxed. Outwardly.


	25. Nailing

"You were careless." The tone was neutral, mild even, but to Prussia, it seemed like he was barely holding back an enraged shout. "Why were you there in the first place?"

He waited for a couple of seconds before realizing that he was supposed to say something. "I-I was hungry."

"I see." The irritation was palpable. "And you couldn't wait?"

It came faster this time. "It didn't occur to me that he was seeing someone."

"How did Latvia react?"

"He was startled." He let out a faux-related chuckle. "You should've seen it. He dropped this really expensive cup and he couldn't stop apologizing! Man, that kid's got some lungpower, though. He talked for like an hour straight before –"

"I meant after that." Seeing his brother's confused expression, he elucidated. "I know you've been in contact. How has he reacted?"

"Oh. Well, he was more freaked out about how you'd react than anything else. Why? You think he should be worried about something else?"

"I think he should be… something else."

"What?" His brother crossed his arms, fingers tapping on an elbow. "Oh! You think he should be _angry, _don't you? At me. What, because I interrupted his precious session? He doesn't even like them."

"That's irrelevant. He was supposed to have the hour alone with Austria. You violated his privacy." Ordinarily, such a loaded word as "violated" would've carried some emphasis. The absence… concerned him.

"Oh. Well, I said sorry. Sort of." He absently began to fiddle with some tacks strewn on the table. He started trying to organize them, quickly realizing that the presence of four tan, three red, three blue, and a whopping seven yellow (plus a stray green) would make a normal quadrilateral design difficult. He settled for a green in the center, surrounded by a ring of six alternating red and blue, another of eight alternating yellow and tan. The three remaining yellow would have to be balanced. The pattern was already growing too large.

Germany was still staring. "What? I did. It was more of a drink on me than a straightforward apology, per se, but I'm sure he got what I was getting at." They wouldn't balance, even when he nudged the reds and blues out of the way enough to stab the points into the table. (He was certain Austria would throw a fit when he got home, but it wasn't like the table was that old.)

"Knock it off. That table was probably expensive."

"No, it wasn't. He got it secondhand. We helped him bring it home, remember?"

"He still won't want it damaged."

"Who's damaging it? Look, it's already got plenty of scratches. People have carved their initials in it. Why –"

"Just stop!" He wasn't any louder, but his tone had grown more forceful.

"Jeez, fine. If I'd known you were going to make such a big deal of it…" He knew needling his brother was a mistake, but the temptation was impossible to resist.

"It's not the table. You shouldn't interfere with Latvia's life." (Really, his self-control was abnormally complete. Taunting him almost felt like taking advantage of his status as "fragile.")

"It's not a big deal. We've just been sort of hanging out. He hasn't been spending time with the others lately. He needed someone to do stuff with, and since I wasn't busy making any other part of the world more awesome, I figured it'd be nice to cheer him up."

Much to his surprise, Germany didn't explode. If anything, he looked… calmer. More thoughtful. He murmured what might have been assent and took a seat. After dazedly looking around the room, stroking his _('weirdly clean-shaven') _chin, he settled on the tacks.

"I think if you get them closer together, you can use the colored edges to balance the yellow ones." He carefully arranged a red, blue, and yellow set to demonstrate. Prussia nodded and silently copied him.

'_Whew. I can't believe that worked. It looks like my talent of deception is as awesome as ever.'_

There were some silver tacks he hadn't noticed before hiding behind a stack of books. Germany handed them to him and he balanced them on the outer ring. There were some left over, with which he tried to build a third layer. Five seconds later, the whole tiny structure toppled to the tabletop.

"I think a couple rolled onto the floor," muttered Germany. Both brothers ducked down to get them. (How the green one had slipped out of the center was anyone's guess.)

"I'll apologize to Latvia properly." _'Where the hell did that come from?' _"I mean, if you want me to."

"I'd appreciate that." _'Wait, is he smiling? He's not smug about this, is he?' _He wasn't smiling, but there was a glint of what could've been amusement in his eye as he straightened and carefully placed his tacks back on the table.

He looked around for a box to put them in. "Where did these come from, anyway?"

"I think Lithuania brought them over for his last session. Poland's been fitting him for a dress or something." Germany's expression was disapproving again. "I swear I wasn't eavesdropping! I just happened to hear, is all. Anyway, it's not like it's a big secret."

Mercifully, Germany let the matter drop. "I thought they used long pins for that. Not tacks."

"Oh, maybe. Then I have no idea."

"Hmm…" Both men searched the walls for signs of occupation. "Austria's room, perhaps."

"Wouldn't that be prying?" His tone was more mocking than genuinely censorious, and Germany's quick glare acknowledged his point. A moment later, both had reached Austria's door and opened it.

"He must've taken down some sort of poster or – wow."

Newspaper clippings. There weren't many of them, but to the two brothers, they seemed to line the walls. The headlines followed a clear pattern: _"Russland Gliedert Litauen Ein."_ _"Lettland ist Gegangen." "Estland Ist Weg von Der Karte."_ They stared around in shock. All were hung with small silver thumbtacks and large colored ones.

"He must've taken it out of the room and removed the tacks there…" Prussia trailed off. They exchanged a quick look before racing to check the kitchen trash.

"Here!" exclaimed Germany triumphantly. Then he got a look at his prize, staring at it closely. "Why do you think he'd want to remove this one?" he muttered.

"Um, can't see, here." Prussia grabbed it from his hands. He sat down heavily at the kitchen table. "Oh. I see."

_"Deutschland ist Geteilt Worden."_

* * *

**I confess that I had to use my computer's translator, and I added the passive voice components myself. I'd really appreciate corrections from anyone who speaks German.**


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